


We Make Our Own Fate

by HollyeLeigh



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, KnightRook, Religious Content, Sexy Times, Survival, captain gothel, content warnings, what still remains au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2019-10-22 03:26:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 60,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17655170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyeLeigh/pseuds/HollyeLeigh
Summary: Emma Swan had been born on the cusp of the event that had changed mankind forever. A pestilence. A sickness that stripped away the humanity of those infected, those changed; abandoning the rest of the population to try and survive, not only the disease, but the crumbling of society itself. Nearly twenty-one years later, Emma finds herself at a crossroads - accept the opportunity presented to her by the handsome stranger she happened upon one fateful morning, or remain at the only home she's ever known, alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Though the fic is inspired by the the film What Still Remains, this is not a retelling of that story. Themes, scenes, and dialogue will be re-purposed, but major changes have been made to the overall plot. This fic features both Captain Swan and Knightrook, as well as elements of Captain Gothel. If you need any clarifications on how these relationships are presented within the fic before deciding whether or not to read, please do not hesitate to message me. Though I will make every effort to update this fic as often as I can, there will not be a regular updating schedule. 
> 
> All my love to @artistic-writer/itrustyoutokillme for being a kick-ass beta!
> 
> Content warnings: post-apocalyptic society, survivalists, religious themes, mentions of child abuse, mentions of sexual abuse, mentions of dub-con, whump, munchausen by proxy, assault, and other bad things to be added as we go.

 

A crispness hung in the morning air. Shrouds of fog clung to several clusters of trees, and newly fallen leaves crunched under her boots. Her fingers became numb under the frigid rush of the river streaming into her bucket as she collected the day’s water while the gentle sounds of the morning wafted softly through the forest. The only home, only reality, she’d ever known.

Emma Swan had been born on the cusp of the event that had changed mankind forever. A pestilence, Ingrid had called it. A sickness that stripped away the humanity of those infected, those _changed;_ abandoning the rest of the population to try and survive, not only the disease, but the crumbling of society itself.

Ingrid had told Emma and her adoptive sisters stories of the world _before._ There had been joy then, hope. More laughter and communities of people one could bond with, build a life with. Not like now. Now, Emma was all alone. Having lost her sisters, Elsa and Anna, to a sudden blizzard two winters ago, and Ingrid in recent months to another form of sickness, Emma’s life had become one of solitude. Ingrid had made her promise, before she’d passed, to go out and find people. _It is not good for man to be alone_ , she’d quoted. But alone was safer. People couldn’t be trusted, or rather... it was difficult to know who you _could_ trust in a world that epitomized the _every man for himself_ mindset. No, alone was better.

Emma pushed aside those thoughts and tamped down the loneliness that threatened to creep in, blaming the now unnerving quiet of the early hour for not supplying her with enough distraction. Hauling her bucket to shore, her attention shifted to the bank across the stream. She froze at the sight before her. Two men stood with their gazes fixed on her. Predatory, inhuman stares that sent a shiver down her spine and coiling dread to knot tightly in her stomach. Were they actually men, or were they Changed?

Emma wasn’t about to wait around and find out.

Grabbing her rifle, she took off into the forest. Her pursuers would have to make their way to a shallower part of the river in order to cross, she could only hope to outrun them before they managed it. Brambles and roots caught at her feet while panic pounded in her chest and rushed in her ears. She chanced a look back over her shoulder as she wove through a narrow grove of trees, and collided with a firm, warm body. The impact toppled her to the ground, her knees slamming against the cold earth before she landed on top of the obstacle barring her escape.

Emma’s eyes snapped open to find vivid, startled blue one’s staring back at her. Their breaths mingled in the scant space between them, and Emma’s skin grew hot under the grip of his hands on her hips and the press of their bodies against one another.

He was handsome. Probably the most handsome man Emma had ever seen, though she’d not met many, just the odd trader or vagabond. His disheveled hair matched the color of his brows, which were currently positioned high upon his forehead. But where those were dark, almost black in their hue, the scruff along his strong jaw had a reddish tint. A small scar high on his cheek was the only blemish she could see on his face, and she found that it did nothing to mar, but only enhanced his appearance.

Acutely aware that she was still plastered against this stunning stranger, Emma shifted her weight with the intent of getting back onto her feet… and getting as far from him as fast as she could. Before she could put her plan into action, the sound of snapping twigs and pounding footfalls grabbed both their attentions. Several yards in the distance were the two men she’d spotted at the riverbank, momentarily forgotten by the presence of a new potential threat.

“Bloody hell,” the man beneath her whispered. She gasped when he wrapped an arm around her waist before rolling them, positioning them behind a fallen log with him now atop her. A cry of outrage was cut off by his hand, clamped down over her mouth as he gave her an intensely serious stare while bringing up his other hand to shush her with his finger pressed against his lips. She gave him a nod of understanding and compliance before his gaze flicked up to the two men, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he tracked them across the clearing.

Without warning, he moved off of her and pulled her upright into a sitting position. “Which direction?”

“W-What?” she stammered, watching him pull his shotgun from the holster on his back to check its readiness.

“Which direction do you need to go to find safety?” he asked again, his focus still on the task of arming himself.

“East,” she replied. “I live east.” _Why did she tell him that?_

“Alright. I’ll lead them away from here in the opposite direction. Wait a few minutes then head straight home. Got it?”

Before Emma could respond he was up and over the fallen log, making more noise than necessary as he sprinted west, leading the men away from her position. She sat dumbfounded for several long moments before finally making her way back to her homestead.

~/~

Emma had looked back over her shoulder several dozen times before her homestead finally came into view. Once safely shut inside she’d trained her rifle through the slit in the door, ready to take on anyone who might have followed her back to her cabin. Unsure of just how long she’d stood there, she finally abandoned her post when her stomach protested its neglect. It took several more hours to finally shake off the anxiety the morning’s events had cast over her (especially when she’d sworn she’d heard the sound of gunshots from far off in the distance), but no sooner had she fallen back into her usual routine than the chimes on the gate at the perimeter started to sound.

Peering out through the slit in the door, Emma’s stomach flipped when she saw the handsome stranger inspecting her front gate and the fence that circled the property. She grabbed her rifle from where it sat propped up against the wall and slid the barrel out the opening. It took another few seconds for him to catch sight of her, and the gun.

He balked slightly and raised his hands above his head. “I’m not sick,” he assured in the same accented tone that had caused a small shiver to run up her spine earlier, as it did again now, if she were being honest.

“What do you want?”

“I just wanted to make sure you made it home alright,” he answered, arms still raised in the air.

“How did you find me?”

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips even as he fixed her with a firm stare. “You should be more mindful about covering your tracks.”

Emma internally cursed herself. She’d been in such a rush to get back to her cabin, and distracted by the thoughts of this surprisingly kind stranger, that she hadn’t taken greater care to not leave traces of a trail. Worry flared within her. If he had found his way there, then…

“I made sure no one would be able to follow your trail,” he informed her as if reading her mind.

There was a tightness in his words and demeanor that had the hair at the back of neck standing on end, prompting her to ask, “And those men?”

“You’ve nothing to fear from them any longer, lass.”

“And what about you?” she questioned as a fresh shudder caused goose flesh to break out over her arms at the possible implication of his words (as well as the implication of what she was now sure had been the sound of gunshots earlier). “Do I have cause to fear you?”

“You’re the one with the rifle trained at me, love,” he reminded. His brows rose high up on his forehead as if to accentuate his point.

“Yeah, but I’m not the only one armed.” His shotgun was holstered behind his back, the buttstock visible over his shoulder. “Toss your gun over the fence.”

His entire countenance darkened at her command. “I can’t let you take my weapon.”

“Unless you want a bullet in your chest, you will.”

He considered her words for a moment before pulling the shotgun free from its holster. Emma tensed at the action and kept her finger steady against the trigger of her rifle, especially when he crouched down and momentarily disappeared from view. The shotgun slid under the gate. Before he could stand upright again, Emma opened the door and made her way out into the yard, her rifle still trained on him.

“Do you have any other weapons on you?”

He sighed and bent over again. When he came back into view a small knife was clutched in his hand. Emma jerked her head, indicating that he toss it over the fence, and he complied. They just stood there staring at one another. Anxiety crept over Emma’s skin. She hadn’t really thought any of this through.

Reading her mind once again, the man, arms still in the air, shrugged his shoulders and threw his hands back. “So, what now?”

“Now,” Emma replied with a confidence and authority she didn’t actually feel like she possessed in that moment. “You’re going to tell me what you’re really doing here.”

The man swallowed and wet his lips before answering, and Emma had to force herself to mind his words and not his tongue. Why he was having this effect on her, she couldn’t say. She knew better than to let a handsome face override her good sense. She’d made that mistake once before.

“I come from a village about three days south of here. I’m out looking for things that might be of use to the community. You’re the first person I’ve come across in days.” His eyes never wavered from hers, and his words rang true. Emma had always had an uncanny ability to tell when someone was outright lying to her. That didn’t mean she couldn’t be fooled though, which was why she continued to hold him in her rifle’s sights. “I have seeds and textiles to trade,” he continued. “I can see from the forge you have on your property that one of your people works with metal? Perhaps, we could come to some sort of an agreement?”

His brows were arched again in a look of hopeful anticipation. Emma chewed her lip and weighed her options. Seeds were a valuable commodity, and not one she could really afford to pass up. Plus, he had potentially saved her life earlier, and she had his weapons, that made him a little less threatening in her estimation. Still, Emma was cautious.

She stepped forward and collected his shotgun and the small knife. “Stay there,” she instructed before slipping back into her cabin to stow away his weapons and her rifle, though she kept her hunting knife visible where it sat at her hip. When she came back into the yard his hands were relaxed at his sides. He said nothing as she opened the gate, swinging it wide to allow him entrance.

He took two measured steps inside then stopped and turned towards her. Holding out his hand, he introduced himself with a small, disarming smile.

“Killian Jones, at your service.”

Emma glanced at his proffered hand before hesitantly gripping it with her own. Her pulse quickened at the contact, leaving her a bit breathless as she replied, “I’m Emma. Emma Swan.”

His smile broadened, causing the skin around his eyes to crinkle slightly. “A pleasure to meet you, Emma.”

~/~

The sun had started to set quickly after Emma had allowed Killian entrance into her property. Just enough light remained for her to inspect the goods he’d offered and for him to show her some of the tools he had on hand that needed repairing.

“So, you’re the smith among your people?” he inquired when she started rummaging through her supplies to make sure she had what was needed to do the repairs.

“Um… yeah,” Emma confirmed without offering any more details.

“Well, they’re lucky to have you,” he continued, casually surveying the property in the fading daylight. “We had a smith once, but he left us some time ago. Did you make all of these tools?” Emma nodded her response without looking. She didn’t need to, she’d made _all_ of the tools. “You’re quite skilled. My village could certainly benefit from your expertise.”

Ripples of suspicion broke out over her skin. “I’m good here, thanks,” she answered with a clipped tone.

“Of course, you are. I didn’t mean to imply-”

“Looks like I have everything I’ll need to repair those for you,” Emma cut him off. “I won’t be able to do the work until the morning though.”

“I understand.”

His eyes had her frozen in their sights again. It was getting darker, and she really shouldn’t let him linger. “Yeah, so. If you want to leave them with me, I’ll get them fixed in the morning, and you can come back by in the afternoon to get them.”

Something flashed in his gaze. Disappointment? He smothered it quickly before reminding, “That would be grand, lass, but there’s one small problem… you’ve my weapons. Do you really intend to cast me out without a way to protect myself?”

Emma sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as her brows pinched together. He was right, she couldn’t send him away without his gun and knife. She’d have to return them, but only if he agreed to relinquish them again when he returned.

Before she could turn back towards the cabin he offered a different suggestion. “If you’re amenable, I caught a rabbit earlier I could prepare for us. We could just sit out here… eat, talk, then once your people return you might feel more comfortable allowing me to sleep inside your fence?”

“I’d rather you slept outside of it.” The words popped out of her mouth before she could give any thought to them. Not that it would have changed the way she felt about that part of his proposition.

He let out an amused sort of huff and smiled. “You don’t trust easy, do you love?”

Her heart skipped a beat or two before she could respond. “Trust is earned.”

“Aye,” he nodded. “I suppose that’s one way to approach life.”

“It’s worked for me.” Emma folded her arms over her chest and tried to match the intensity of his stare. It wasn’t long before she felt her determination slip, causing her eyes to drop from his.

She could still feel his eyes on her when he made a small humming sound then softly suggested, “Perhaps it’s time to try something new.”

Her eyes snapped back up to his, but she remained silent; unsure of how to respond to the words she knew she ought to consider, but was still too uncertain of the man from whom they’d been uttered.

Killian sighed and took his eyes off her, looking once more around the dusk lit compound. “The offer of the rabbit stands, even if provision of your fence does not. So, what do you say, love? Care to dine with me?”

Emma couldn’t see any reason to refuse, so long as he agreed to let her do the skinning and breaking down of the animal. She wasn’t about to trust him with a knife.

She had to give it to the man, he could certainly cook. Food preparation had never really been Emma’s strong suit. Always better at catching and cleaning than actually making it into something edible. She was okay with the gardening, though not as good as Anna had been.

Thoughts of her sister set a shroud of melancholy over Emma; one the all too observant Killian Jones was quick to pick up on. “Everything alright, Swan? Something wrong with the meal?”

“No, no. The meal’s fine, I just…” she let her voice trail off, then switched gears. “It’s delicious. I was just sitting here thinking how I’m a pretty hopeless cook. That’s always been my mother’s strength. Ingrid. She and my sister Elsa w-are the cooks. Anna and I do better with supplying the food than we do actually making it edible.”

It was difficult, mentioning her family in the present tense, as if they were still with her, but she didn’t want Killian to know just how alone she was here.

“Aye,” he said on an amused breath. “It’s the same way at my village. Each with his or her own strengths to serve the greater good of the community. It’s nice you’ve got others to help carry the burden here.”

Emma kept her eyes fixed on her plate, lest she give something away with their misted over glaze of held back tears. Silence descended as they finished the meal, and Killian offered to see to the task of cleaning up since she’d been the one to break down the rabbit. As he scrubbed the utensils at the nearby outdoor basin, Emma took solace in the sound of the crickets chirping throughout the meadow just beyond the property. It wouldn’t be too much longer before their music would become dormant. Autumn was on the verge of taking hold and soon after, winter would follow.

Winter. How was she going to survive the winter?

With faith and hope, Ingrid would say if she were here. Faith, hope, and diligence of spirit to make her own fate.

“Your people are believers, then?”

Killian’s question jarred Emma from her musings, and she looked up to find him studying the cross that hung on one of the columns of the porch.

“Uh, yeah,” Emma answered, accepting the cup of hot tea he’d prepared for them to enjoy in the coolness of the early evening. “Ingrid taught us all to read from the Bible. She made sure we studied it everyday, we even had something like a church service on Sundays.” Emma took a sip of the steaming beverage, unaware of her slip until Killian shifted in his seat.

“Had?” he prodded gently. Emma sputtered into her tea cup, her eyes as big as the saucer she returned the cup to as she tried to get her mouth to form words. “Emma,” Killian soothed, his eyes full of sadness for her. “You don’t have to pretend any longer, love.”

Her mouth fell open at the knowing look he gave her. “How? How did you-”

“You’re something of an open book, Swan. I deduced you were on your own some time ago.”

Anger and suspicion sparked deep in her belly and roared towards her chest. “So your suggestion to have dinner and wait to see if I’d be more comfortable once _my people_ were back was what, exactly? What are you planning to do?”

“Nothing,” he insisted. His hands lifted off the table, and he took a yielding posture in his seat to convey he meant no intention of threat. “I wasn’t sure you were alone here when I made the offer, that suspicion came later.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Because I… I thought,” he struggled to find the words for a moment, and Emma cursed herself for not sitting in the chair closest to the cabin door. Closest to her rifle. Had he intended that when they’d sat down? Emma couldn’t remember how they’d come to pick these particular seats. Her hand grabbed hold of the handle of her hunting knife, ready to pull it from its sheath should he try anything. “I thought… if I was correct, and you were alone here, that you might like some company.”

Emma balked. She hadn’t been expecting that answer. Hadn’t expected it, because it was honest. She’d expected him to lie. To charm and sweet talk his way out of his predicament.

“I know you don’t trust easy, Swan. You’ve made that quite clear. And I’m sorry I didn’t voice my suspicion sooner, but if I had would it have made a difference to how you’re reacting now?”

Emma chewed her lip and considered his question. “No. It wouldn’t have mattered.”

Killian relaxed his posture, his hands resting once more on the table as he assessed her with those too blue eyes of his.

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you been on your own?”

“Since the ground started to thaw this past spring,” Emma answered quietly. The memory rushed back to her and made her eyes sting.

“Oh, Emma. I’m sorry.” The sincerity in his voice started the cascade of tears down her face. “Your mother?” Emma nodded. “And your sisters? What of them?”

“Blizzard,” she sniffled. “Two winters ago.” His hand slid hesitantly across the surface of the table until it reached hers. He paused for a moment before covering her hand with his, and she let him. “They got caught in a sudden storm that came out of nowhere.”

“Aye,” he murmured. “I remember it. We lost a few good folks ourselves.”

Emma stiffened slightly when he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket with his free hand, but relaxed her shoulders when he produced a square of clean linen. After taking the handkerchief from him she worked to compose herself while Killian sat patiently, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb every so often. At first the action had been soothing, but once her tears were back under control, she worried he might misinterpret the liberty she was permitting, and pulled her hand out from under his before placing it in her lap.

“My village,” he began softly, testing the waters of her temperament. “As I said, it’s only a few days from here. Positioned next to a lake. Plenty of fresh water and food. People trying to build a life together.” He paused, brows raised in expectant anticipation of a response to his unspoken question. “We could use a metal worker, Swan,” he continued when she’d remained silent. “You’d be safe there.”

Out of everything he’d said to her thus far, that last statement was the first that didn’t quite sit right with her. “I can take care of myself.”

He chuckled lightly and looked about the darkened compound. “Aye. That much is clear, love.” His eyes settled back onto hers, a look of hopeful persuasion resting upon his features. “But our Lord says in Genesis 2:18, It is not good for ma-”

“For man to be alone,” she finished for him, earning her a soft smile and nod. “Are you some kind of preacher or something?”

“No,” he answered with a faintly hardened edge to his tone. “I do not hold that distinction within my village.” His features softened again as he added, “Just a student of the Word. Like you.”

They finished their tea, switching topics as Killian asked her about how she’d learned to work with metal and what techniques she’d planned to use for the repairs tomorrow. Emma wondered if he was simply attempting to stay in her good graces, but appreciated the lighter conversation nonetheless.

Once the kettle was empty, Killian stood and declared with a bit of reluctance coloring his voice, “It’s late, and I’m an early riser, so I’ll leave you to get some rest.” He picked up his pack from where it rested against one of the porch supports and swung it over his shoulders as he made for the gate.

“Killian?” Emma called out. Still unsure whether or not she could trust him, but willing to give him a chance to prove himself, she nodded at the tall tree in the center of the fenced property and said, “If you sleep on the south side of the trunk it’ll help block some of the night wind.”

His brows lifted in surprise. ‘You’re certain?” When she nodded, a wide smile stretched across his face. “Thank you, love.” Before she could make her way inside the cabin he called out after her. “Oh, and Swan. Think about my offer? Sleep on it at least?”

She gave him a non-committal shrug of her shoulders then walked into the cabin, bolting the door behind her. She didn’t sleep on his offer. She barely slept at all. Thoughts of Killian Jones and his village swirled through her mind as the hours ticked by. A village with plenty of fresh water and food and people to do life with, just as Ingrid had wished for her. People like Killian, with whom she could converse, and laugh, and share burdens. Killian with his hard body beneath hers, his brilliant blue eyes piercing into hers as he took action to protect her, a stranger, from the dangers this world was fraught with. Further thoughts of that hard body and what other services it might provide other than protection were blamed on her sleep deprived mind when the morning crested through her window.

“Morning, love! Sleep well?” Killian called out jovially when Emma groggily emerged from the cabin. He had a fire going in the open pit with what looked to be eggs cooking in a small cast iron skillet. “I hope you don’t mind. I found them among your chickens this morning after your rooster woke me. Figured I’d prepare us some sustenance so you could get to work on the forge early before the temperatures rose.” He reached up to scratch behind his ear, her stunned silence causing a level of discomfort to rise between them. “I apologize if I overstepped, Swan. I didn’t mean t-”

“No, no. It’s… it’s fine,” she rushed to assure him. “I just wasn’t expecting…” Her words trailed off, unsure of how to express what she was feeling in that moment.

He seemed to know though. “You’ve been on your own for some time now, and have grown accustomed to having to do everything yourself. You’ve forgotten what’s it like to have someone else to rely on.”

It was unnerving how well this man seemed to know her after only a few hours in her company. “Yeah, well. In my experience the only person you can ever really rely on is yourself,” she muttered as she made her way over to the forge so she could light the coals and get it ready for use after breakfast.

They ate in relative silence, Killian seemingly harbouring a sense that he’d somehow offended her, and not wanting to say anything more that might sour her further, while Emma stewed in guilt over her churlish behaviour. Other than one remark the night before, he hadn’t said or done anything to invite mistrust, yet Emma couldn’t shake off the self-preserving armour she’d put on right after Ingrid’s death. Right after…

“I should thank you,” she said some time later as they worked at the forge, he at the billows and her methodically heating the metal of one of the tools she’d agreed to mend.

If he was surprised by her words, he didn’t show it, merely cocking his head to one side as a brow arched up his forehead. “Oh? For what?”

“Those men.” She pulled the glowing metal from the fire and began to set a series of strikes to it. Her words punctuating the pounding rhythm of her hammer. “The Changed who were chasing me yesterday.”

“They weren’t Changed.” His soft lilt was barely audible over the clanging, but it was her surprise, not her inability to hear that stalled her work.

“Then what were they?”

“Ordinary men,” he told her with a shrug before he settled himself against the outside wall of her cabin, crossing his arms over his chest and his feet at the ankles. “We call them Berserkers. They keep to the abandoned cities mostly. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen them stray this far out before.”

That bit of news sent a shudder down Emma’s spine. If they were straying from the cities then it might only be a matter of time before they ended up at her doorstep. Emma thought back to the two who’d appeared before her at the river. They’d had a feral look about them with unnatural markings on their faces. She’d never seen a Changed, but had heard about them from a friend who used to spend time with them during the winters. He’d come across several over the years and his descriptions of their appearance seemed to match those of the two men from the river.

“So, what? Are they just pretending to be Changed? Some sort of defense mechanism so people will stay away from them?”

“They worship the legend of the Changing. If they could, they’d probably infect themselves, but an actual Changed hasn’t been seen in these parts for many years.”

“Why? Why would anyone willing subject themselves to that?”

Killian gave her a scrutinizing look before responding to her question with one of his own. “How old are you, Emma?”

“Twenty-one,” she replied. “Or nearly, anyway. Ingrid said I was born in the fall, so it’ll be another month or so. Why?”

“You’ve never known anything different than this world, then. I don’t remember much myself, just flashes of… memories? Impressions? But there are many at my village who do remember the world before. After the pestilence began to take hold, there were some groups who believed it was not some sort of plague, but a… new type of existence. An evolution of sorts. They believed we should simply accept our fate and give ourselves over to the Change. This… new existence, this inevitable fate is what the Berserkers worship.”

“That’s crazy.”

He chuckled lightly. “You’ll hear no argument from me, love.”

Emma went back to work, and with Killian’s assistance, was able to finish the remaining repairs before storm clouds blew in with a late summer rain shower. The two took refuge on the porch, taking the opportunity to have a bite of lunch while Emma selected seeds and textiles in trade for her work, listening to Killian as he told her about the villagers who’d cultivated the crops or loomed and knitted the fabrics. Each tale pulled at the strings of longing wrapped around her heart until it was caught tightly in the bindings of despair and panic at the prospect of being on her own again once Killian left. He’d said nothing more about his offer, and she wondered if he’d had second thoughts after having a chance to sleep on it as well.

“I don’t mean to pry or be insensitive,” he began gently when the rain had become no more than a light mist, “but I haven’t seen any headstones. Do you mind my asking where they’re buried?”

Emma turned her face towards the far edge of the clearing. “On the backside of the hill of over there. Elsa, Anna, and I used to play there when we were children, and Ingrid always liked the view.”

“Before I go, I wondered if… if you wouldn’t mind my saying a few words for them. Pay my respects?”

As they’d been wont to do far too often since Killian Jones’ appearance in her life, Emma’s eyes began to sting with the threat of unshed tears. “I think they would have really liked that.”

Standing before the graves of the only family she’d ever known, Emma fought back those persistent tears as Killian eloquently spoke heartfelt words she’d never been able to utter. Before they could release themselves down her cheeks, she quickly muttered an amen at the close of his prayer and turned away to collect herself. She’d shown enough weakness in front of him as it was.

“Thank you,” she offered when he approached a moment later. “I wanted to do that so many times, but I could never find the words.”

“Blessed are those who mourn,” he quoted, startling her slightly as he draped something over the front of her neck before clasping it at the back. Ingrid’s cross necklace, she realized. The one she’d left hanging from the grave marker. “The living need this more than the dead,” he said, adjusting her hair back into place where it hung from the high ponytail she’d pulled it into earlier. They offered each other a small smile before heading back to the homestead.

“I should go. Don’t want to be stuck in the city at nightfall.”

“The city?” Emma had just entered the gate when his words caused her to whirl around and face him, her concern drawing her brows together and pulling down the corners of her mouth.

“Aye. I know it can be dangerous, but I can’t pass up the opportunity to do a bit of scavenging.”

Emma stood frozen in place. She’d known he’d have to leave sooner or later, had been telling herself that sooner was better, but now the moment was before her she wasn’t ready for him to go. Especially if it meant he’d be traipsing off to the abandoned city to the north. What if he ran into more Berserkers? What if he got injured or caught in the rubble of the decaying buildings? Emma shook her head and planted her resolve. It wasn’t her concern. _He_ wasn’t her concern.

Killian gathered his pack and waited for her by the gate as she went into the cabin to collect his weapons. He said nothing about the fact she’d kept his gun loaded, simply smothered something that might have become a smirk then holstered it behind his back. After securing the small knife into his boot he made a show of adjusting the straps at his shoulders.

“I assume, though you’ve said nothing of my offer, that you’ve had time to think it over? I won’t ask you to accompany me to the city, but I will be coming back by this way tomorrow. It would give you time to pack up what you need and make peace with this place before leaving. What do you say, Swan?” She tore her eyes from his insistent blues and fixed her attention towards the ground while her desire for companionship and common sense warred with one another. “You’ve done well for yourself here love, there’s no denying that,” he persisted. “Bloody brilliant and amazingly well, actually.” The awe in his voice made Emma flush with pride and the corners of her lips twitched. “I don’t know many in my village, man or woman, who could have accomplished all you have. The sheer strength it must have taken you, body and spirit, to bury your mother on your own, without aid is testament enough to how tough a lass you are.”

Emma’s head snapped up and she felt her armour fit itself against her in the face of the memory of that day, and the night that had followed. “I didn’t bury her alone,” she corrected in a clipped tone, causing him to balk. “I don’t need anyone else to _aid_ me.”

He took a startled step back when she slammed the gate on him. The confusion over the change in her demeanor as she secured it was evident in his expression and Emma squared her shoulders, ready for an outraged response. He didn’t look outraged though, only sad and discerning.

“I see.” He shuffled a foot over the loose dirt at his feet before looking up and capturing her gaze once more. “Look out for yourself and you’ll never get hurt.” Emma swallowed and forced herself to not back away when he took a step toward the gate and placed a hand atop it. “I’m sorry someone hurt you, Swan. And I appreciate the trust you’ve given me in spite of it. I won’t bother you again, love. But I do want you to know, that if you ever decide you want to be a part of something, to take that leap of faith, all you have to do is follow the ridge.” He nodded to the south and Emma knew exactly what ridge he was referring to. “After about three days you’ll reach the lake, just follow the shoreline to the west and you’ll find me.” His eyes bore into hers, willing a response, but she didn’t trust herself enough to give one. Finally, he gave her a sad smile before stepping back from the fence, his jaw ticking with disappointment. “Take care of yourself, Swan.”

Emma watched until he disappeared from view before heading inside the cabin. She kept herself busy for the rest of the day, slipping back into the routine that had been momentarily disrupted by Killian’s presence. A routine that almost allowed her to ignore the tendrils of loneliness that desperately wished to bind themselves to the community he’d offered, ignore the pang of regret twinging in her chest that she’d let him leave without the invitation to call upon her again. She told herself it was best that way. No need for him to waste his time in stopping by when her answer wasn’t going to change, though she knew full well that wasn’t the reason. Truth was, she hadn’t asked him to come again on his way back, because she knew how close she was to changing her mind, and seeing him again would probably be the thing to push her over the edge. Especially after a day and evening so full of heavy silence it nearly smothered her.

Without the busyness of chores to help fend off the grief, solitude, and anxiety that had hovered at the edge of her subconscious, Emma felt the full press of them as she lay awake in her narrow bed that night. Much as she wished she could deny it, Killian’s presence and the events of the day before had changed things. It hadn’t escaped her awareness how unwilling she’d been to venture out to the river to collect much needed water earlier, nor how her excitement over harvesting such wonderful looking potatoes from her humble garden had waned when there had been no other person to share it with. Ingrid’s necklace had served as both a comfort and admonishment hanging over her heart; a heart that thudded and skipped each time she remembered the feel of Killian’s fingertips brushing against the back of her neck when he’d secured the clasp in place.

Emma wondered where he was now and what he was doing. Had he reached the city? Was he safe? Had he found anything of use? Was he thinking about her? She rolled and punched her pillow, angry at the train of thought her mind seemed set on. She didn’t need Killian Jones or his village. She was doing just fine on her own. Tomorrow she would go back to the river to collect water, and carry on with her life just as she had before those men had prompted her to run headlong into distraction and doubt. She would forget about Killian Jones and his too blue eyes, soft lilting voice, troublesome good looks, and perceptively understanding charm. She wouldn’t think about how he’d come to her aid, possibly even killing to protect her, and hadn’t asked for anything in return except simple hospitality. Tomorrow she would go back to life as normal, on her own. She was better off on her own.

She’d managed to hang onto that lie for the majority of the next morning as she continued to deceive herself. Dismissing her hyper awareness of each snapping branch or rustle of leaves as being anything but hopeful anticipation that Killian might have decided to stop back by on his way back to his village after all. Denying that her reluctance to go fetch water had anything to do with fear of what, or who, she might come across when she left the safety of her homestead. What she could not deny was the very real need she had for fresh water, so despite her reticence, Emma had no choice but to venture back to the river.

She was always cautious when she ventured out, but today her senses seemed to be on overdrive. As it turned out, there was no reason for them to be, the trip to the river and back had been as unremarkable as every other time she’d gone, not counting the last. Her pulse had just evened out, the additional exertion pounding in her chest from the strain of carrying the water and not from the nerves that had been thundering in her veins earlier, when her fence came into view. This small success of self-sustainability might have completely spurned the emotional turmoil she’d grappled with overnight had it not been for what awaited her at the gate.

A small bundle of wild flowers, tied together with a modest piece of string.

Water sloshed from the bucket onto her boots as she sat it on the ground in order to retrieve the gift. In addition to the delicate blue, pink, and yellow blooms, there was a rolled slip of paper. With trembling fingers Emma unfurled the note and read:

_I couldn’t resist stopping by and leaving you this small token. What I offered still remains, Swan. Should you wish it, there is a place for you beyond the fortification you’ve constructed for yourself. I very much hope to see you again love, but if not - then this blessing I leave with you. Ruth 1:8._

_Yours,_

_Killian_

Emma hurried inside, clutching the flowers and note close her chest, and retrieved her Bible from the bedside table. Carefully she turned to the book of Ruth and ran her finger down the page until she came to the eighth verse of chapter one.

_May the Lord deal kindly with you, as you have dealt with the dead and with me._

A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, her lungs protesting against the breath she’d trapped there, and one she released on a shuddering gasp as her eyes continued to travel along the scriptures until they reached verse sixteen.

_But Ruth said, Do not urge me to leave you or to return from following you. For where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge. Your people shall be my people, and your God my God._

The page crinkled under the splash of her fallen tears, causing Emma to shut the book and cradle it against her chest. She couldn’t deny it any longer. She wanted that. Wanted to go with Killian, to live in his village, and be with people she could share her life with. She didn’t want to be alone any longer.

It took less time than she would have thought to pack up a life that could only be transported upon her back. Though she’d taken care to choose her possessions and provisions wisely, she was back on the other side of the fence, securing the gate one final time as she took one last long look at the only home she’d ever known before turning toward the future that lay ahead. She wasn’t sure how long it had taken her to catch up to him, but when Killian peeked over his shoulder and caught glimpse of her, the smile that broke across his face left her breathless.

“Swan? What are you-”

“I decided to take that leap of faith.”


	2. Chapter 2

 

Killian looked back over his shoulder, assuring himself for the dozenth time that she was still there. With every step that had them ascending towards the next rise his guilt rose with it. The truth had almost made its way to the surface numerous times only to get caught at the back of his throat when he opened his mouth. It wasn’t too late. He could tell her what she was really walking into, beg her forgiveness, and send her back home none the worse. Maybe tonight. They’d camp soon and he could tell her then, or let her get a good night’s sleep and tell her in the morning. There was still time to do the right thing.

_The right thing_ , he scoffed silently. The right thing would have been to not follow her back to her homestead in the first place. He could tell himself all day long it had simply been to ensure her safety and maybe barter for goods, but he knew the real reason. From the moment she’d knocked him off his feet, literally and figuratively, Killian couldn’t seem to help himself; she could very well be the answer to his prayers. Besides, with the Berserkers seemingly set on expanding their territory, it wouldn’t have been long before she was discovered. It might not be the ideal place for her to relocate to, but his village would supply her with more security than living alone in those woods. Still, she should know all the facts before making that choice. He’d have to tell her the truth.

He glanced over his shoulder once more. The distraction of his thoughts and Emma’s golden hair blowing in the soft breeze made him neglectful of his steps. Otherwise, he might have noticed the suspicious looking leaf pile. There was only a moment’s comprehension at the sound of the spring release before he cried out in pain as the metal teeth of a bear trap drove themselves through the leather of his boot and into his foot. A scream of agony tore from his lips as he fell to the ground, the crushing grip of the trap radiating pain up his leg.

“Killian!” Emma shouted and closed the distance she’d been maintaining between them.

They worked together to remove the infernal contraption, and once he was freed Killian couldn’t help but beat the ground beneath him with his fist. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ Rolling onto his back, he covered his face with his arm while focusing on evening out his breathing. The rhythm of his heart throbbed under the wounds on his foot, and he prayed it wasn’t broken. It would be difficult enough warding off infection, to say nothing of how this would slow them down. Killian sucked in a sharp breath and held it tight within his lungs. He couldn’t tell Swan the truth now, couldn’t risk her leaving him like this. He’d need her help to get back to the village.

For better or worse, the bear trap had sealed both their fates.

“Can you stand?” Emma asked. “We should get out of the area in case the owner of that trap is nearby.”

“Aye,” he answered on a ragged breath, taking her proffered hand to help get him back onto his feet.

He winced, and bit back an expletive when he attempted to put weight on the injured limb. Looking over to Swan with the request for help on his tongue, he noticed her wary expression and realized he’d picked up her discarded rifle when he’d stood. He offered her a sheepish grin as he handed it back to her. After settling it onto her shoulder by its strap, she tucked herself into his side and braced him as they slowly made their way from the area.

“Once we set up camp, I’ll take a look and see how bad it is,” she said with a faint tone of strain in her voice from his added weight.

Killian hated this additional burden she was now having to shoulder because of him. She’d have enough burdens to deal with once they arrived at the village. “I’m sorry, Swan. I should have been more careful,” he grunted. The throbbing was now punctuated by a burning sensation that threatened to consume his entire leg.

“Hey. It’s not your fault. I’m just glad you weren’t alone when it happened.”

She took her focus off the forest floor and glanced up at him, momentarily relieving his pain with her soft smile and sincere eyes.

God, she was beautiful.

“Aye, love. Me, too.”

~/~

It was slow going, but eventually they found a place that was a comfortable enough distance away from the trap where they could set up camp. While Killian worked to get his boot off of his now terribly swollen foot, he instructed Emma on where to locate some supplies they might need from his pack. Sweat beaded across his brow from the pain and exertion of removing his boot, and more than once he knew a tormented moan had escaped the back of his throat; he didn’t want Swan to believe him weak though, so he did his best to push the agony aside.

“Here.” Emma handed him the extra undershirt she’d found so he could begin tearing it into strips to use as bandages. “What else?”

“Side pocket,” Killian instructed, discomfort making his words sound constricted and tight. “There should be a jar of yellowish paste, a salve, to rub on the wound, as well as a flask full of disinfectant.”

After locating the items, Emma positioned herself at Killian’s feet. She cast a questioning glance up at Killian, who nodded his consent before she lifted his injured foot, still encased in a blood soaked sock, onto her lap to have a better look. Carefully, she peeled off the crimson stained garment, exposing the damaged flesh underneath. Three of the traps steel teeth had managed to penetrate the top of boot and pierce his skin, which had been further torn during their efforts to remove the foul contraption. Emma opened her canteen and began to gently clean off the blood, wincing apologetically each time Killian hissed. He could see the mottled discoloration of bruising already beginning to form along the top ridge of his foot and junction of his ankle. Fortunately, the sole of his shoe had kept the trap from injuring the underside.

“Take the flask and pour its contents over the wounds,” he instructed while bracing himself for the forthcoming sting.

After she unstoppered the flask, Emma lifted it to her nose to take a whiff and her eyes immediately began to water. “What the hell is in here?” she coughed.

“Distilled alcohol,” he answered. “We make it for medicinal purposes.”

Emma cocked her head to the side and her brow slid up her forehead. “Medicinal purposes?”

Killian felt the tips of ears heat up and knew their red coloring gave him away. With a small, but sly smirk he added, “Perhaps the occasional recreational one as well.”

“So your village is comprised of pious believers who also dabble in the art of moonshine,” Emma teased.

“It has its uses,” he countered. “It does wonders as a disinfectant,” he waved at her to pass him the flask, which she did. Offering up a salute of cheers first, he took a long pull of the stout stuff before handing it back with a sputtering, “and as a way of fortifying oneself for its effects on open wounds.”

The liquor spread through him, leaving a soothing warmth in its wake. Hovering the flask in position over his foot, Emma looked up at him once again, waiting for his signal that he was ready. Another quick nod and a stinging fire had him clenching his jaw against the cry of pain that was trying to work its way up from his chest. When the burning finally started to subside, Emma rinsed away the remaining alcohol and began to dry off his foot with the remnants of his torn undershirt. With a gentle touch, she applied the salve before wrapping the strips of his shirt around the wounds and propping his foot up on her bedroll.

“Okay. You just stay there and rest while I get things set up.”

“Swan, I can’t let you do that all on your own,” Killian protested.

“And I can’t carry you all the way to your village, so I need you to rest that foot, because you’re going to have to walk on it tomorrow,” she shot back, hands resting on her hips while giving him a look that did not invite any further argument.

“As you wish,” he sighed, knowing she was right and therefore useless to dispute her reasoning. “Might I offer a suggestion then before you get started?”

“What’s that?”

“That branch.” He pointed to the tree just off to their left with a low hanging branch. “See if it’s pliable enough to pull the end down and stake to the ground. Then you can drape my tarp over it and create something of a tent. From the look of those clouds, I believe it might rain again.”

Emma looked up at the greying sky. “Yeah. That’s probably not a bad idea.”

It was difficult for him to sit by and watch Swan do all the work, but it wasn’t long before she had their tent set up, wood collected, a fire started, and the makings of a meal under way, cobbled together from the provisions each of them had on hand. Looking over those provisions had Killian chuckling lightly.

“What’s so funny?”

“Looks like you brought half the cabin with you,” Killian ribbed as she pulled out yet another parcel from her pack.

“I would have brought more if I could,” she admitted sheepishly. “I hated leaving all of Ingrid’s books.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a pretty good selection of my own back at the village. You welcome to them anytime you like.”

Silence stretched between them as night fell, each seemingly lost in thought as they nibbled at the meager offerings of dried beef, hardtack, and the few raw vegetables Emma had harvested from her garden before joining him. Killian stewed, trying to make peace with the fact he couldn’t say all the things he wished to. A time would come when he’d owe her a full explanation, but he couldn’t risk it now. Didn’t _want_ to risk it.

In the few short hours they’d spent together, both at her homestead and here in wilds of woods, he’d grown to enjoy her company. It was a rare experience for him to have someone not of the village to converse with, someone he could open up parts of himself to that he dared not share with any member of his community. Of course, he still had to guard his words. He didn’t wish to say anything that would cause her to second guess her decision now, and it wouldn’t do for careless thoughts he’d expressed in these quiet, and seemingly safe moments to get back to the villagers through Emma’s innocently intended recountings of their journey. Still, he was thankful to be here in her presence, a presence that, though tested and shaped by the trials of this world, continued to hold a sense of purity and goodness he longed to reclaim for himself and his--

“Why did you leave that particular blessing?”

Emma’s voice wrenched him from his thoughts, and it took him a moment to process her question. “Beg your pardon?”

“Ruth 1:8,” she clarified. “Why that verse?”

Killian ran his hand over the scruff at his jaw, scratching at the stubble, before giving a half shrug. “I suppose it was because I admire what you did for your family. Giving them a proper burial. Most folks don’t do that anymore.”

“Do they at your village?”

“When we can,” he nodded. “We’ve a cemetary outside the perimeter fence, but sometimes it isn’t possible to bury the dead there.”

“Like, when the ground is too frozen in the winter?”

Killian nodded and sincerely hoped she wouldn’t ask what they did with the dead in those cases. He didn’t care to think upon it either. Casting away perished loved ones to be devoured by the beasts of the forest had never sat right with him, but there was no other option sometimes. Not if they wanted to avoid disease.

“Do you remember much about the old world?” she asked, thankfully changing the subject.

“I was young. Seven or eight.” She scooted a bit closer to him, opening her posture as she settled in for the story. He didn’t think she even realized it, and it was this show of openness, this small gesture of trust as a layer of her armour was set aside that gave him the fortitude to share his tale. Or some of it, anyway. “As I said, it’s mostly just flashes of things. I’m not even sure what are actually my memories, or things my brother told me after the fact.” Killian took a deep breath. It had been a long time since he’d talked about his brother, or any of his family for that matter.

“I do know that my parents were professors. They brought my brother and I with them from the UK when they received a grant to study survival and how the pioneers adapted to the New World. Many of the villagers were originally a part of that study.”

“Is that how your village started?” Emma asked with an incredulous tone. “As a research study?”

“Aye,” Killian chuckled. “Whole families choosing to give up modern conveniences in order to recreate what the pioneers did.” His face sobered before adding, “Until the sickness came, and it was no longer a choice.”

“Are they still alive?” she inquired tentatively. “Your parents?”

“No,” he answered with a sad smile, assuring her he wasn’t upset by her question. “Right after the pestilence started, my mother got sick. Not from that,” he clarified. “It was something else.” He stared at his bandaged foot and remembered the cut she’d gotten on her arm… and the blood infection that had followed. “Antibiotics would probably have saved her, but it was too dangerous to venture out at that time and she…”

“I’m so sorry.”

Emma rested her hand upon his knee, drawing his gaze from his foot to where it rested. Strange how different her touch was as compared to that of… Killian shook his head and continued on.

“My father did his best to carry on, but it wasn’t easy. Fortunately, he had the other villagers to help, but I don’t think he ever really... He, uh… a several months after my mother passed, he went out hunting and he… he never returned.”

“The sickness? Or Berserkers?”

“Would you think me horrible if I said I hoped that had been his fate?” Killian held his breath, eyes fixed on the ground just outside the campfires embers, hoping she _wouldn’t_ think the worst of him for his confession. “It’s just that, it’s easier to think he met an unexpected fate rather than-”

“Ingrid wasn’t my real mother,” Emma blurted out. Killian whipped his head up, his eyes connecting with hers as they reflected the flicker of the firelight beside them. “None of them were related to me by blood,” she continued on, her nerves vibrating just under the surface of her usually cool and collected demeanor. “Ingrid found me abandoned in these woods. Said I couldn’t have been more than a few hours old.” Her eyes fell to the fire, a haunted look he knew all too well filling their green depths. “It never made sense why they would just leave me here, unless they didn’t wan-”

“There are a number of reasons why they might have left you here,” Killian interjected. It was one thing for him to ponder whether his father had walked out on him and his brother, but he couldn’t bear the idea that Emma would ever question her self worth, would question whether or not she was wanted.

“Yeah,” she said knowingly, voicing that which they both knew they’d often thought, but rarely voiced, if ever. “Like… maybe they just didn’t want a kid tying them down.”

“Oh, Emma.” Killian covered her hand, still resting on his knee, with his own and squeezed gently. “You mustn’t think like that. _We_ mustn’t think like that. I’m sure that if your parents could have, they would have kept you with them.”

She smiled up at him; not quite a sincere and assured thing, but it made his heart swell nonetheless.

“And I’m sure your dad would have come back if he’d had the choice,” she echoed back to him. “There are enough monsters in this world. We don’t need to imagine our parents being one of them, I guess.”

“Aye,” Killian agreed pensively while silently thinking to himself, _Though_ , _sometimes people become their own kind of monster._

~/~

Emma stretched, but a mild shiver from the morning chill robbed her of the full satisfaction of the motion, the range of which alerted her to the fact she was alone within the makeshift tent. Killian’s bedroll was cold beneath her palm, and a quick glance outside the tarp told her he wasn’t sitting by the fire, which had extinguished itself overnight. Pulling on her boots and jacket, Emma saw that both his rifle and the walking stick she’d found him the day before were also gone. Perhaps he’d gone off to take care of… personal matters?

After seeing to those matters for herself, she nervously waited for him to return, wondering if she should simply start another fire and attempt to make breakfast, or go in search of him. It didn’t take her long before deciding to grab her rifle and setting off after him, heading towards the small stream she’d spotted while collecting firewood, assuming he might have headed that way first.

She was rewarded with a boot print in the soft earth when she arrived and followed the signs he’d left behind as best she could. The trail led her up a small embankment. With her eyes trained on the forest floor for fresh clues of where Killian was headed, she didn’t see him crouching behind a nearby tree attempting to wave her down. Quickly he darted towards her, stumbling on his injured foot and startling her. Like the first time they met, he clamped a hand over her mouth while pressing a finger to his own. With his arm wrapped around her waist, he pulled her down behind a tree and silently motioned to something just over the berm.

Killian removed his hand from her mouth, but kept his arm secured around her middle while she leaned over to look around the tree. Seated several yards from them was an elderly man in front of a small fire next to a camp set up similar to their own.

“What are you doing out here, Swan?” Killian murmured into her ear. His words and the underlying agitation rumbled in his chest pressed against her back.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she whispered back, turning her head to face him as she spoke and finding herself practically nose to nose with him. She swallowed hard when his eyes locked onto hers. Their blue depths were shadowed by something dark and menacing, but it quickly dissolved as his focus settled on her and not the man whose presence had obviously caught him off guard. “You weren’t there when I woke up,” she said softly. “I was worried.”

“Sorry, love.”

A chagrined look passed over his features, followed by another expression Emma could not identify, before he loosened his grip from her waist, allowing her to pull away from him, though he seemed as hesitant to let her go as she was to move from him.

“I saw the smoke this morning and followed it.”

His words reminded her of their mysterious neighbor, and she focused her attention on the man once more. “Is he a Berserker?”

“No. They usually run in pairs or packs. He seems to be just an old man.”

“Should we go down there?”

“No.” Killian’s clipped and callous tone surprised her. “We don’t know if we can trust him. For all we know he set that trap.”

“What happened to, _it is not good for man to be alone_?” she challenged, unsure of where this new distrustful nature was coming from.

“What happened to _trust is earned_?” he shot back. Her expression must have conveyed her confusion and wariness over his behaviour, causing him to soften his demeanor and tone. “He may very well be just a harmless old man, love, but I’m injured. If we go down there, and there’s trouble-”

“I can handle it.”

“I know you can, Swan,” he assured her. “But I don’t want to put you in that position if I don’t have to. We should double back, grab our packs, and give him a wide berth just to be safe. Once we get to the village, I can send out a scouting party to come back for him.”

Emma worried her lip while thinking upon Killian’s words. She knew he was right, even as she internally questioned Killian’s caution and agitation, wondering why he’d been so open to invite her to join his community, only to shun this man. It made her momentarily doubtful of his motives. He did have a point, though. He was injured, and worrying that he’d slow her down, or that she’d have to shoulder the burden of trouble if the man turned out to be a threat did seem more in line with what she knew of him. Besides, they didn’t know this person. He appeared to her to be some sort of drifter, and she knew from stories and her own experiences that drifters typically couldn’t be trusted. Still, something about Killian’s reaction wasn’t sitting right with her.

“You’re right,” she agreed reluctantly. He gave her a relieved half smile before gingerly getting to his feet and offering her hand up off the ground.

They took a single step back towards camp when a filthy looking man with an AR-15 stepped out from behind another tree, stopping them in their tracks.

“Leaving so soon?” he sneered. Killian moved to raise his gun. “Ah ah. Play nice, or I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.”

“Good job, son!” the old man called from bottom of the hill. “Why don’t you invite our new friends on down here.”

Prompted by the barrel of the automatic rifle, Emma and Killian made their way down the embankment. Emma noticed Killian hobbling on his bad foot, and wondered how much of it was real, and how much was for show, hoping to make the men think he was worse off than he was. She prayed it was the latter.

“I was wondering when you two would come and introduce yourselves,” the old man greeted when they arrived, the son’s rifle still trained at their backs.

“You knew we were here?” Emma asked, brows pulling together as she sensed Killian tense up even more beside her.

“Not too smart to start your fire while it’s still daylight,” he cautioned. His demeanor then changed as he turned out the contents of his mug to extinguish his own fire. “Unless, of course, you _want_ to be found.” Cold dread slid down Emma’s back. They’d walked right into an ambush. “Now,” the old man continued, “why don’t you two put your guns down, and have a seat. Then we can all be a bit more civilized.”

With no other option but to comply, she and Killian rested their guns on the ground next to the fire pit before sitting on a downed tree a few feet back from them. Killian let Emma sit first, then sat himself down right next to her. With their thighs pressed together, he was closer than he would have been if it had just been the two of them. Whether it was a show of possession or protection, she wasn’t sure, but it was clear from the looks on the men’s faces that the unspoken intent hadn’t gone unnoticed by them either.

“Your knife, too,” the son demanded, gesturing toward the hunting knife at her hip. After tossing it next to her gun, he lowered his rifle and began to take his own seat. “Sorry for the theatrics,” he quipped. “Never can be too careful.”

“No. You can’t,” Killian agreed tightly. His jaw was ticking furiously, and Emma knew he was berating himself for falling prey so easily. Prey was exactly how Emma felt, especially with the way the younger man, though still probably old enough to her father, was staring at her.

“What exactly are y’all doing in these parts?” the old man asked with a perfectly cordial tone, while the underlying hostility and distrust hung heavy in the air.

“We’re making our way back to my people,” Killian answered.

“What people would those be?”

“There’s a community we’re a part of.” Killian kept his answers short. His voice dropping into a lower register as his growing agitation wound him even tighter. The cold, dark, menacing shadows she’d seen in his eyes earlier were back with a vengeance.

“Community?” the old man inquired with a hard edge. “Not too many that fit that description anymore. You mean those religious folks down by the lake?”

The man’s son shifted in his seat, aggression rolling off him in waves that nearly matched Killian’s, who remained silent as his the muscle in his jaw continued to tick. Emma wasn’t sure why he was hedging on his answer, his silence was confirmation enough.

“You traveling with him by your own accord?” the son asked, breaking the silence with his attention still set on her.

“Of course she is,” Killian growled between clenched teeth.

“I didn’t ask you.”

Killian’s fists balled in his lap.

“Yes,” Emma replied before things could escalate. “I’m traveling with him of my own accord. I make my own choices.”

“We’ve had a few encounters with your… _community_ ,” the old man said, drawing the conversation back.

“Funny,” Killian responded, knowing there was no point in denying the man’s speculation of which community he’d been referring to. “I don’t recognize you.”

“Well, it was a long time ago. We dealt mostly with a fella by the name of Malcolm.”

Emma heard Killian suck in a quick breath before she asked, “We?” The way he’d said it implied he wasn’t just talking about himself and his son.

“We weren’t always just two,” the son replied darkly.

“No, we weren’t,” the old man agreed.

“Look. We’re just passing through,” Killian said, switching gears with a lighter tone, and a false smile set on his lips.

“See, now,” the son wagged his finger towards them, “that there is the problem. You didn’t ask for permission.”

False smile still in place, Killian turned his attention to the older man. “My apologies,” he offered with a reverential, but tight tone. “I’m asking now.”

The old man’s eyes flicked between them, and Emma held her breath until he shrugged lightly, and replied, “We’ll allow it.” Killian visibly relaxed and glanced over at her, his eyes reflecting the relief she knew they were both feeling. Too soon, it seemed. “But the toll,” the old man continued, “is your packs. Looked like you had some decent tools. Oh, and that tarp of yours as well.”

Emma opened her mouth to protest, but Killian placed his hand on her thigh, staying her words. “Fine,” he agreed before claiming her eyes with his, communicating his request that she just comply.

Nodding, she shifted her weight, about to stand to her feet, when the son spoke up.

“That settles him, but what about the girl?”

Emma’s head snapped towards him. “What about me?”

“Well, this _community_ of his,” the man oiled as venom dripped from each of his words. “It took a lot from us. I figure we ought to take something,” his eyes roamed over her, a letcherous glint flashing in his eyes that made her stomach turn, “back for ourselves.”

Killian sprang to his feet, snarling, “Over my dead body.”

The son took to his feet as well, AR raised and pointed right at Killian’s chest. “That wouldn’t be too hard to arrange.”

“You can keep the packs, the tarp, all of it, but she’s coming with me,” Killian declared menacingly.

“You talk like you’ve got a choice in the matter,” the old man chuckled.

“Why don’t we let the girl decide,” the son suggested tauntingly. “She makes her own choices, remember?”

“That’s right, son. Where are our manners?” The old man turned and set his gaze on her; a gaze that was far too similar to his son’s. “What about it, little missy? Wanna stay with us?”

Emma’s pulse raced and her palms were slick from fright. She absolutely did not want to stay with these men, but feared what response her refusal might garner. All eyes were on her, the three men pinning her down with their gazes. Killian’s was the one that weighed the heaviest, with his pleading blue eyes begging her to say no and make a run for it. She couldn’t leave him, though. She’d never be able to forgive herself.

“I’ll stay.”

“Swan, don’t-”

“But only if you promise no harm will come to Killian.” She kept her gaze fixed at the old man, incapable of looking at Killian in that moment.

The old man nodded and shared a moment of agreement with his son. “I’ll honor that,” he said. Emma blew out a sigh of relief. “Killian. You’re free to go.”

She turned an apologetic expression upward, willing Killian to go as he stared down at her. She could see the gears turning in his mind, trying to find a way out of this, before accepting the fact there was nothing to be done and reaching for his weapon.

“Oh, no,” the son said. “We’ll be keeping your shotgun. Now, go on and get. We don’t need anymore of your crazy in our lives.”

Emma’s face pinched at his words. _Crazy? He’s one to tal-_ Before she could finish her thought, Killian spun around and lunged for her, earning him a strike in the back from the buttstock of the son’s rifle, which collapsed Killian to his knees.

“Please, don’t hurt him!”

Emma stood and tried to put herself between Killian and the man. Killian capitalized on the distraction, removing the small knife he had hidden in his boot and plunging it into the man’s gut as he stood. Emma gasped at the sight of blood spattering from the man’s mouth as Killian withdrew the blade only to thrust it into the man again.

“You son of a bitch!” the old man bellowed, reaching for the handgun Emma only now spotted resting on the ground next to his camp chair.

She scrambled for her rifle, raising it while still on her knees, and firing it at the old man before he could get a shot off at Killian. The bullet hit him right in the heart, killing him instantly. Pulse pounding in her ears, and lungs screaming at her to breathe, Emma remained frozen with her rifle still trained on the dead man when Killian knelt down beside her.

“Swan?” he murmured gently. “Swan, love. It’s over. We’re safe. You can put the gun down.” He placed a hand on the barrel and applied slight pressure, lowering it.

Emma’s chin began to quiver as tears stung in her eyes. Dropping her rifle, she turned towards Killian. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sor-”

“Hey, hey,” he cut in, setting his hands atop her shoulders and squaring himself up to her so he could look her in the eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry about, Swan. _Nothing_. Those men would have killed me, and done God knows what to you. You _saved_ us.” He helped her to her feet, making sure she was stable on her shaky legs before collecting his shotgun, and the man’s AR. Bending down, he picked up her hunting knife where it lay at her feet and held it out to her. “We should go. We’ve no idea who else might be in these woods, and the sound of that gunshot will have carried.”

Emma nodded, took her knife from his hand and sheathed it, then swung her rifle over her shoulder. “I didn’t want to stay with them,” she said hollowly, casting one last look at the two dead men.

“What?”

“I didn’t want to stay with them,” she repeated. “I only said I did, because I thought they’d kill you otherwise.”

Killian took a few limping steps forward, closing the distance between them. “I know that, love.” He reached out and moved a section of her hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Why do you feel the need to reassure me of that fact?”

She swallowed and looked up at him guiltily. “Because I had a moment earlier when I doubted your motives. When you weren’t willing to reveal ourselves to the old man and invite him along. I thought… I thought I had been wrong about you, but now I know.”

“Know what, love?”

Emma resolved the words within herself before giving them voice, solidifying them with a deep breath. “That you’ve only got my best interest at heart. And because of that, from now on, I promise I’m gonna choose to see the best in you.”

She gave him a small smile, but the heat rushing to her face from the heartfelt words she’d shared made her tear her gaze from his. She squared her shoulders and set off towards their camp with purposeful steps, completely missing the guilt-ridden expression that crossed Killian’s face.


	3. Chapter 3

 

The fire crackled and popped, flames casting long shadows along the ground and against the trees from where Killian and Emma sat silently. Though the air was crisp in his lungs, the evening was rather pleasant with clear skies and a light breeze, if only he could make his mood match the atmosphere around him. He ought to check in on Emma’s thoughts, see how she was holding up in the aftermath of the morning. They’d pressed on with as much haste as he’d been able to muster on his injured foot in order to put as much distance between themselves and vile men left dead in their wake. Men who continued to make his blood boil and his gut churn with fury.

When the old man had uttered Malcolm’s name Killian knew their encounter would end violently. The recently departed village elder might have touted the faith’s teachings of compassion and brotherly love, but Killian knew his mindset had been geared more towards the worst of Old Testament; taking that which he felt God had ordained for them, forcefully if necessary. He’d likened himself to Joshua conquering the Promised Land, with justifications of protecting the community against enemies of the Lord, and _saving_ those who’d been led astray by the fallen world around them.

Killian remembered those early years well when strangers arrived in droves after teams of villagers had gone out to scout and scavenge. New members added to the flock and brought into the fold with shell shocked looks and spirits of fear that had been used as a cautionary tale of the results of living outside the protection of the village, and by extension, God’s grace. It had never occurred to Killian to question where the people had come from, or whether they had come of their own accord. Had they been tricked into entering the community? Been told the same things he’d said to Swan?

Was he really any better than those who’d served Malcolm, or those who blindly served their new head elder? Better than those men in the woods who’d used trickery and false hospitality to take what they wanted? Had he been incensed at their question of whether Emma was with him by her own choice because he didn’t want to be associated with men of such ilk, or because deep down he knew that he was really no different than them? He hadn’t forced Emma to come along with him, but he hadn’t been honest with her about their destination, either. Nor had he been honest about his true intent, justifying his actions in much the same way as countless villagers before him.

Much as he needed her, wanted her, truly had her best interests at heart, and genuinely felt she was an answer to his prayers, could he really justify his actions? Even if God had divinely intervened the day their paths crossed, that didn’t give him the right to take her choice from her. Killian had always believed that while the Lord, in His infinite mercy, might give provision and guidance, it was up to each of them to make their own fate in the world. A belief that had led him from his village in the first place, in search of a new destiny; a destiny he truly believed included Emma Swan.

“Have you ever seen the ocean?” Emma asked softly, her gaze unfocused on the fire in front of her.

“Aye,” he replied, curious as to what thoughts had led her to prompt such a question. “When I was little. Before all of… this. Why?”

“Ingrid used to tell me stories about a place by the ocean. A place where people found safety. A haven.”

“Misthaven.” Killian nodded knowingly. “I once met a man who claimed he’d come from there.”

“Really?” Emma’s eyes flicked up to his. “I thought that was something Ingrid made up. I never thought it was real.”

“It may not be real, but she didn’t make it up. It’s an old legend from the time of the Changing. A place, apparently, free from disease.”

“Have you ever thought about trying to find it?”

“Lots of times,” he confessed wistfully.

“What’s stopped you?”

Killian paused and reflected on his answer before answering honestly. “Life. The people I’m with now.”

Emma’s smile told him she hadn’t picked up on the faintly terse tone with which his words were delivered. “People are what make a place special.”

Side-stepping her incorrect assumption of what he’d meant, he placed a smirk on his lips and asked, “Is that something else Ingrid used to say?”

“No,” she whispered, an air of fondness tinged with melancholy saturating her words. “An old friend used to say it.”

“Well, she’s right. People are what make a place special.” _Though special does not always equate with good._

“He, actually,” Emma corrected quietly.

“He?” A hot spark of something he had no right to feel flared to life in his chest.

“Yeah, uh,” Emma tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and ran her tongue along her bottom lip, nipping at it nervously before continuing. “His name was Graham. We first met him when I was about fourteen, I think. Ingrid found him badly injured in the woods, and brought him back to the cabin to treat him. He ended up staying with us that entire winter as we nursed him back to health. He came back to stay with us every winter after that until…”

“Until?”

“He stopped coming,” Emma answered tightly. “I haven’t seen him since the spring thaw three years ago.” Her words caught on a lump of emotion that had formed in her throat.

“You cared for him,” Killian stated, sensing he might have been more than a simple friend.

“Yes,” Emma released on a quiet breath. “He was...” She took a deep breath and furtively cast her eyes in his direction before settling them back onto the fire. “He was a lot of things to me.”

Killian’s jaw clenched, and the jealousy that had first ignited in his chest simmered in his gut. It was pointless to feel this way. Whatever had occurred between Swan and this man happened years ago, and logic told him the man was long dead. That logic couldn’t combat the covetousness that continued to writhe in his stomach though.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m cursed.”

Killian swallowed against his irrational envy and focused himself on the woman beside him, remorseful that he’d been so neglectful of her thoughts and emotions while brooding in his own all evening.

“Why would you think that, love?”

She gave a small half shrug. “I’ve lost everyone.” The sorrow shimmering in her eyes from the illuminating firelight twisted his heart, and he couldn’t help but reach out to take her hand in his. “I never even knew my parents, but I still felt their loss my whole life. Then I lost Elsa and Anna. Then Ingrid. Even Graham.”

“You aren’t cursed, Emma,” Killian assured her with a squeeze of his hand. “It’s the world that’s cursed. Even before the sickness, loss was a part of life. But I know how you feel.”

Emma turned her gaze to his and like so many times before, Killian found himself overwhelmed by her beauty.

“You do?”

“Aye,” he breathed. “I’ve lost my parents, my brother, and too many friends.”

“I’m so sorry, Killian. I didn’t realize.”

“Realize what, love?”

“About your brother,” she said apologetically. “You mentioned him last night, but I never asked. I just assumed he was still alive and-”

“It’s alright, Swan. It was long ago, but,” his fist clenched and relaxed over the top of his thigh as he pushed back against the memory, “it’s not a moment I’m too fond of reliving.”

“Of course. You don’t… you don’t have tell me. I try to avoid thinking of such things, too.” Killian could see her mind at work and patiently waited for her to collect her thoughts. “I think that was another hesitation I had in coming with you.”

“What’s that?”

“As much as I don’t want to be alone anymore,” she confessed. “As much as I want to be a part of something, a community, I… I don’t want to lose anyone else.” Her head fell forward slightly, taking her eyes from his as she murmured, “I thought I was going to lose you today, and I don’t... I don’t want to lose you, too.”

Killian’s lips parted in astonishment, sticking at their corners as he processed her words. Perhaps he’d been brooding for nothing. Perhaps, in light of what she’d just confessed, he needn’t worry so much. Maybe she would understand and forgive the deceptions and duplicity, and _want_ to stay with him once she learned the truth. God, he hoped so.

Placing his finger beneath her chin, he lifted her face up towards his. His thumb grazed along the edge of her jaw before settling in the dimple below her lip. “Love, you don’t have to worry about me. If there’s one thing I’m good at… it’s surviving.”

He could see from the labored rise and fall of her chest that her breaths had become as shallow as his. The heat of the fire had set a flush upon their skin which reacted with the cool night air, setting a current of anticipation around them. It took every ounce of will power he possessed to not fall prey to the temptation before him, to release her chin and put a bit of space between them rather than surge forward to claim her mouth with his. Willing as she might be to permit him such a liberty, it was one he would not allow himself to take until she knew everything. He owed her that much, at least.

“We’ve still got quite a distance to cover tomorrow,” he said in a hoarse tone from the sudden dryness in his throat. “We should probably get some rest.”

“Right,” she agreed. The pink flush at her cheeks reddened further, and he hoped she hadn’t read his hesitance as a rejection.

He grasped her hand when she stood, and brushed his thumb over her knuckles while offering her a reassuring smile; one he was pleased to see mirrored back at him. With a gentle tug on his hand, she prompted him to stand before releasing his hand and making her way to their makeshift tent. Killian’s heart began to pound an anxious rhythm against his rib cage as he recalled the state in which he’d woken that morning after finding Emma wrapped in his arms. Half hard, with thoughts and instincts he been battling against for years swirling through his mind, Killian had had to pinch himself hard on the inner thigh to stop the ardour thrumming through his veins before his body could manifest it physically. The action had become second nature to him; a habit he’d developed long ago to combat unwanted urges prompted by unwanted advances. Not that he wouldn’t welcome advances from Emma should she ever feel inclined to give them, even if the mere idea of such a prospect had his insides twisting themselves into knots.

“Perhaps we should sleep beneath the stars tonight,” he called out, a bit flustered, running a hand through his hair. “It’s a clear night. We’ll be back at my village by tomorrow night, so this will be our only opportunity.” All of which was true, but Killian knew the real reason he wished to sleep outside the tent was because he simply did not trust himself with her inside the tent.

Emma looked up into the clear night sky then back at him. “I think that sounds nice.”

Killian ensured his bedroll was far enough away to avoid temptation, while still close enough to offer Emma the comfort of his presence. Before he could drift off to sleep, she rolled onto her side and reached out to take his hand.

“Goodnight, Killian,” she yawned. “And thank you. Thanks for bringing me with you.”

Maybe she _would_ forgive him once he was able to confess the truth. Maybe she really was the answer to all of his prayers.

Or maybe he was an utter bastard who deserved to burn in Hell for the betrayal that awaited her come mid-afternoon tomorrow.

~/~

After checking and redressing his wound, they headed out from their camp early the next morning. With each hour that ticked by and mile that passed beneath their feet, Killian became a bit more reserved and somewhat withdrawn. He was quiet when they’d stopped for a bite at midday, lost in contemplations, though Emma swore he’d started to say something to her more than once before stopping himself.

She couldn’t help but wonder if he wanted to talk about the events from the night before. Well, not events, she supposed. Nothing had actually happened. There had been a moment when Emma thought Killian might kiss her, but he’d pulled back. She couldn’t deny she’d been both relieved and disappointed when he had. Though she could admit she was attracted to him, had been from the first moment they’d met, she worried what sort of scrutiny they’d be under when they arrived at his village. Unsure of what his community’s stance was on relations between men and women, it was probably best they’d refrained from any actions that could have easily escalated. She wanted to put her best foot forward with his village, and not give them any reason to not accept her.

She could only hope that same wish was what had Killian acting so tense. Was he concerned about how the villagers were going to react to her? Could they overrule his invitation and bar her from entering?

His behaviour, and her increasingly frayed nerves, started a surge of anxiety to cycle through her with each trudging step. Worried of how the villagers would receive an unexpected outsider, and fearing they might not wish to accept her, she nearly jumped out of her skin when Killian placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Apologies, love. Are you alright?”

“What? I mean, yes. Why, uh… why are we stopping?”

Killian’s brows pulled together as he reached up to scratch behind his ear. “We’re nearly there,” he informed her, with the same pensive and hesitant tone that had colored his words all day. “Before we get there though, there’s something I need to…” He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Do you remember yesterday when you told me that you knew I had your best interests at heart?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He opened his eyes and fixed them on her, intense yet vulnerable, and so, so blue. “There are good people here, Swan. But there are also people and things, some traditions that might seem… I just need you to hold onto the promise you made. When you said you we’re going to choose to see the best in me. No matter what you might see or hear, I promise I will explain things to you, I just need you to trus-”

“Killian,” Emma pressed her fingers against his lips to stop his ramblings. “I’m nervous enough as it is, meeting your people. So, I get it. You’re worried about how they’re going to react.” She removed her hand from his mouth then reached down to lace it together with his. “I know things are going to be different here than I’m used to. I’m preparing myself for the shock of having so many people around, and I promise to do my best to make a good impression for you.”

“No, Swan, that’s not-”

“Thank God!” a voice sounded, drawing Emma’s attention to the handful of people who’d suddenly appeared. Instinctively, she grabbed for the rifle strap at her shoulder, only to be halted by Killian.

“It’s alright, Swan. No need for that,” he assured with a smile.

“We were starting to think you wouldn’t return,” the man said as he drew closer. He was taller than Killian, but only by a small margin. Light brown hair and overgrown stubble that matched Killian’s, though without the reddish tint, framed his jovial face. He had an accent similar to Killian’s as well, and she wondered if his family had been a part of the original experiment Killian’s had. Once he was close enough, he pulled Killian into a tight hug which was reciprocated with equal enthusiasm. Emma smiled, and some of her earlier trepidations began to melt away at the sight of such brotherly friendship.

“Killian! Oh, thank God!”

As soon as the man released Killian, a woman flew into his embrace. Emma watched as all the tension that had lifted from his posture at the welcoming hug of the man came crashing back down over him when the woman wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. She was older. Early forties if Emma had to guess, with a mess of wild hair and thin braids cascading down her back. It wasn’t until Killian raised an arm to wrap around her in kind that she finally released him.

“What’s happened to you?” she questioned when she caught sight of his walking stick and off balanced step back from her.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” His tone was as tight as the set of his shoulders, and Emma wondered what it was about the woman that had put him so on edge. Turning to address the others gathered, Killian offered them a smile he did not seem to think the woman warranted. “It’s good to see you all.”

“Who’s this?” the woman inquired with suspicion lacing her tone as she set her cold eyes on Emma.

“This,” Killian began, beckoning Emma to him. He placed a hand on her shoulder, a smile that crinkled at the corner of his eyes stretched across his face as he presented her to the small group before them, “is Emma. Emma this is-”

“There’ll be time for pleasantries later,” the woman cut in shrewishly, “We shouldn’t linger outside the compound for too long.”

Obedience to her words was immediate as the group turned and began to walk back up the path Emma could now make out between the trees. She hung back a little, falling in line behind Killian and his friend, listening to their light banter while hoping it would help ease her newly agitated nerves.

“You look like hell,” the man ribbed with a chuckle.

“You should see the other guy,” Killian quipped back.

The trees parted and before them was an imposing structure. A wall, several meters high, and constructed with all manner of materials with spiraled razor wire topping it, stretched in either direction. Flanking the opening that allowed access into the village itself were two guard posts. One raised on a high platform with an armed man keeping watch, the other an old truck that most likely hadn’t run in more than a decade, but could serve as an effective barricade should they require the added security.

A young man, older than her, but younger than Killian and his friend, hopped off the back of the truck and approached them. “You know the drill. Weapons must be surrendered before you can enter.”

Killian handed the automatic rifle he’d had slung over his shoulder to his friend then unholstered his shotgun to do the same. His friend was too transfixed by the first weapon Killian had put in his hands to take the second gun from him.

“Where did you find this?” he asked while looking the AR over with a trained eye.

Killian shot Emma a quick glance before replying. “We ran into a couple of men in the woods on the way back. Things didn’t end too well for them.”

The memory of the encounter sent a shudder through Emma, an action that made the older woman’s brow raise up her forehead.

“You’d think after all this time those of us left would learn to get along,” Killian’s friend lamented.

The younger man who’d jumped from the truck held out his hands to receive her rifle, which she relinquished with only a flicker of apprehension.

“Your knife, too,” he demanded with a nod towards her hip.

“Actually, I’d rather keep that.” Emma had noticed that Killian hadn’t presented his boot knife, and so had assumed she’d be permitted to keep hers as well.

“If you want to join our village, you have to obey our rules,” the woman stated sharply.

“Speaking of getting along,” she heard Killian’s friend murmur as he turned towards her. “Emma,” he addressed politely with Killian smirking over his shoulder. “I’m Robin. It’s lovely to meet you, and we’re so thrilled to have you. I’m afraid Nick and Eloise are correct, though. You’ll need to hand over the knife, but as the keeper of the armory, I promise it will be well looked after.” He gave an exaggeratedly formal bow that Emma couldn’t help chortle at as she unfastened her belt to slip the sheathed knife off.

“Is that all?” the woman, Eloise, questioned. “Shouldn’t we search her pack as well?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Killian affirmed. “As her sponsor, I’ll vouch for her pack.”

Eloise blanched. “Her sponsor?”

“Aye,” Killian clipped. “Now. May we enter? It’s been a long journey for us both.”

Robin clapped Killian on the back and gave Emma a friendly wink before he announced, “Welcome home!”

Eyes followed her every movement as they made their way through the village. Children waved excitedly while older members clustered together, pointing and whispering as Emma and the others passed by. Looking around, she was struck by how well supplied they were here. Structures that resembled actual buildings and not cobbled together dwellings dotted the vast compound. Gardens brimming with abundance for the expected harvest had obviously been tended by a hand far more competent than hers. The wall surrounded the village on all sides, with two more platformed guard stations situated along the back where no trees could be seen rising beyond. Emma deduced that the lake must lay on the other side.

Every so often Killian would murmur information about the village in her ear as they toured the compound, his hand placed firmly on her lower back, beneath her pack, as they approached what could only be described the village square at the center of the property.

“Brother!” a new voice called out. Another of Killian’s contemporaries rose from a bench where he’d been surrounded by other villagers, and once again she felt the man beside her stiffen ever so slightly. “We were starting to fear the worst.”

“Things took longer than expected, I’m afraid.” Killian stepped forward, slightly blocking her from the other man’s full view as they shook hands. Emma noted that Killian’s tone had become overly civil, reminding her of the forced cordiality between him and the men in the woods. “There aren’t too many people left in the mountains.”

_Mountains?_ Emma questioned internally. _He hadn’t been in the mountains?_

“Looks as though you managed to stumble across someone’s path, though,” the man pointed out, his brown eyes assessing the newcomer.

“More like the other way around,” Emma huffed out amusedly, catching Killian’s eye as a sly smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth at their shared joke.

“Everyone,” Killian addressed the now rather large crowd that had assembled in the square. “This is Emma. A true believer, and a survivor like us.” Again, he placed a hand on her shoulder, keeping it there as he limped back until he was at her side. “Tragedy struck her family these recent years, so I’ve offered her a place here with us.”

“Welcome, Emma!” the man greeted, loud enough for all to hear before lowering his voice to introduce himself. “I’m Neal. Grandson of one of the village’s founders, head of the Elder Council, and the appointed preacher here. We are happy to have you.”

He extended his hand. After she placed hers within it, he covered their joined hands with his other.

“Thank you for taking me in.”

He did not allow her to withdraw her hand when she tried to pull it from his grasp. Instead, he began to pat their joined hands as he announced, “We should celebrate! After the baptism, ofcourse. It’s fortunate that you arrived while there’s still plenty of daylight left. We can carry out the ceremony before sunset.”

“Baptism?” Emma questioned, becoming a bit more insistent that the man release her hand, which he finally did with a warm and charming smile.

“There’s no need to rush the baptism,” Killian countered with the same cordial tone. “We’ve only just arrived. We’re both tired, and I’m injured. Best to let her get her bearings before all that.”

“You know the rules, Killian,” Neal stated, his tone bearing an edge of false civility as well now. Emma wasn’t sure what this ceremony was, or what a baptism had to do with it, but she didn’t want her first moments within the village to cause strife. “She needs to be sponsored. If you’re too tired and injured to see to it, then I’d be more than happy to-”

“I am aware of the rules, and I shall be the one sponsoring her,” Killian informed him. “I only ask that the baptism be put off until morning, so she has an opportunity to rest.”

 

“What baptism?” Emma inquired again, feeling a bit put out over the fact she was being spoken about as if she weren’t standing right there. “I’ve already been baptised. Ingrid saw to it when we were children.”

“You come from God fearing people,” Neal commended. “That much is evident.” His gaze flicked down to the cross pendant resting on her chest, and might have lingered a tad longer than she felt appropriate. “This is a second baptism, though. Your first washed you clean of your sins, and declared your devotion to our Lord. The second baptism is a renouncing of the world that has fallen into new corruption since the plague, and serves as a public declaration of your commitment to the community, it’s customs, and it’s elders. It allows you to take your proper place within our flock.”

Prickles of unease crawled over Emma’s skin as Neal spoke, leaving hairs standing on end. She glanced up at Killian who had an inscrutable look upon his face, willing him to look at her.

“It’s just a ceremony,” Robin chimed in, drawing her attention. “Something we do to officially welcome newcomers into the community. We give you a white dress to wear, Killian says a prayer over you, dunks you under, and it’s done.”

_Well, when they put that way..._

“The choice is yours,” Eloise snipped impatiently. “You can either choose to abide by our traditions and customs, or you can leav-”

“Eloise is right,” Killian interrupted, having snapped himself out of whatever stupor he’d fallen under. He turned her to face him, both his hands resting atop her shoulders as he fixed her with his forget-me-not stare. “The choice is yours, Swan. We’ve had a long journey, and if you’d rather wait before-”

“No,” Emma blurted out. She’d decided to follow Killian, to be a part of something with him, and even though this second baptism seemed like nonsense, something she couldn’t reconcile with her own understanding of the scriptures, she’d promised to trust Killian. If doing the ceremony tonight would put the villagers at ease, it was the least she could do for them welcoming her into their community. “It’s fine, Killian. We can do the ceremony tonight. I just… I just didn’t understand the importance of it before.”

Something flashed in Killian’s eyes, and for a moment she though he might argue the matter further, until Neal began making yet another proclamation.

“Wonderful! We best get everything ready for you then.”

Emma was immediately bombarded with villagers eager to welcome her. She forced a smile, shaking hands and concentrating on names as her anxiety tremored in her pulse at the overwhelming sensation of being surrounded by so many people. Killian never left her side and after a few moments his hand moved under her pack to the small of her back where he gently began to steer her through the crowd. Several young girls thrust small bouquets of flowers at her, stopping their progress as Emma thanked them. Looking back over her shoulder once they’d cleared the assembly Emma’s lips turned down as she scanned the crowd.

A wide spectrum of ages were represented among the men within the village, but among the women Emma only saw either young children and girls on the verge of adolescence, to women at least a decade or more older than her. Where were the other young women her own age?

“This is me.” Killian’s voice brought her head back around where she saw a small cabin before her.

“You have a cabin all to yourself?

“Being an elder has its perks,” he informed her as he opened the door and waved her in.

The cabin was comprised of only one large room. A wood burning stove stood across the room along the far wall, equally dividing the space into a living and bedroom. To her left was a long sofa with a low table in front of it, and a tall bookcase with shelves crammed with books beside it. To her right was a spacious and comfortable looking bed with a wardrobe and writing desk situated on opposite walls of each other. Emma sat her pack down next to the low table and immediately went for the books.

“Swan, about the ceremony,” Killian began as he closed the door behind him.

“Killian, I told you it’s fine,” Emma replied, keeping her attention on the books her fingertips were skimming as she scanned the titles of tomes she’d only ever heard about from Ingrid or Graham. She never expected to have a chance to read them for herself. “I don’t want to make waves my first night here, so if doing this baptism will make everyone feel better then I don’t mind.” She pulled herself away from the bookcase to face him, hands playfully on her hips as she ordered, “Though you are going to have to explain to me later why a second baptism is even necessary, given what you and I both know of the scriptures.”

Expecting a smile, or maybe even that adorable scratching motion he sometimes did behind his ear, assuming this was one of those traditions she might find peculiar and in need of explanation, she was startled by the desperate and almost panicked look in his eyes.

“Killian? What is it? Have I done something-”

“No, love.” He started to step toward her, but then seemed to think better of it. “I’m afraid I’m the one who’s done something. Or rather, I haven’t done something. Swan, There’s something I need you to know before-”

“Knock, knock!” The door swung open, revealing Eloise who made her way inside. “Killian, what are you doing? You should be getting ready. We are losing daylight.”

“What are you doing here?” Killian asked flatly, fists balling at his sides.

“I’ve brought a dress for Emma to wear, and thought I’d offer my assistance in getting her ready.” Emma could now see the white swath of fabric draped over the woman’s arm and her brows rose. _How on earth did they manage to keep the fabric so white?_ “Robin said you could get ready in his quarters, and you’d better hurry. You know Neal isn’t known for his patience. If he thinks you’re taking too long he’s liable to come and baptise her himself.”

The muscle in Killian’s jaw jumped. While delivering her message about Robin’s invitation and Neal’s impatience, Eloise had gone to his wardrobe and pulled out a white button down shirt which she was now holding out towards him with herself placed between him and Emma. After a tense moment that felt like something of a standoff, Killian snatched the shirt from Eloise’s hand before brushing past her to approach Emma. A maelstrom swirled in his eyes as his Adam’s apple bobbed heavily from the tension still held in his jaw. He gave her a soft smile, though. Obviously wishing to leave her with words that garnered encouragement rather than apprehension.

“I’ll see you down at the lake, love.” He reached up to toy with a strand of her hair before tucking it behind her ear. Was he stalling?

“What did you want to tell me earlier?” Emma asked softly.

His eyes darted to the side, not quite looking over his shoulder, and Emma knew whatever it was he wanted to say, he was unwilling to do so with an audience.

“It’ll have to wait,” he said with a hint of resolution. “After the ceremony. Before the celebration.”

“Okay.” Emma nodded.

Reluctantly, Killian walked out of the cabin, leaving Emma alone with the woman who hadn’t exactly extended the warmest of welcomes. Eloise motioned for Emma to sit in the desk chair then laid out the dress on the bed before asking if she had a hairbrush in her pack. When Emma offered to get up and retrieve it, Eloise waved her off and went about going through her pack to find it. _Looks like you got to search my things after all,_ Emma sassed to herself. She tried not to wince as Eloise roughly ran the brush through her hair before tightly braiding it into a crown like shape atop her head.

“I gather you’ve been on your own for some time,” she began conversing lightly, even if her touch was not. “Awfully brave of you to follow a stranger into the unknown. You must have made quite an impression on Killian for him to agree to sponsor you.”

Emma knew the woman was alluding to something more under the surface of her words, but she couldn’t quite determine what, so she felt it best to keep her answers short. “Killian has been very kind.”

“What exactly happened out there on your way back?” Eloise asked with a heavy dose of curiosity. “Killian wouldn’t tell me what happened to his foot.” A sharp tug made Emma’s eyes water. “He usually tells me everything. Then there’s the mysterious men you came across in the woods. What happened with them?”

“You should ask Killian.” The idea of having to recount the tale to this woman made Emma’s stomach recoil.

“I’m asking you,” Eloise reprimanded, jabbing bobby pins painfully against Emma’s scalp to secure the crown braid. “Whatever happened seems to have left its mark on you, given that you react physically whenever it’s mentioned.” Eloise moved from behind her and looked at her with expectant brows raised. When Emma remained silent, the woman’s nostrils flared with indignation. “Fine. Don’t tell me. But just so we’re clear,” the woman leaned over, her hands coming to rest against the ends of the chair arms, caging Emma, “this is _my_ village, and Killian was mine first.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sponsorship isn’t just required for newcomers,” Eloise replied sweetly. “It is also given to the younger members of the village who have no family to help guide them in the ways and traditions of our community, helping them navigate their way into adulthood and their proper place within the flock. I became Killian’s sponsor after his brother died.”

Emma sat bewildered. What she’d just described made Emma think of a surrogate parent or guardian, yet she’d gotten the impression that Eloise’s feelings towards Killian were anything but motherly.

Eloise righted herself and offered an insincere smile. “I’ll wait outside while you get dressed then escort you to the lake. Try to be quick about it.”

_What have I gotten myself into?_ Emma wondered internally after the woman departed out the door.

Clearly some sort of feud existed between Killian and Eloise. Was that what Killian had been beating himself up over? Guilt over dragging her into a… domestic dispute? Emma shook herself and got up from the chair. He’d said he would explain things, she just needed to trust him and get through the ceremony so they’d finally have time for him to do so.

Crossing the room to draw the curtains so she’d have privacy while she undressed, Emma saw Killian and Eloise when she reached the window. He looked ready to commit murder, the veins at his temples protruded from his face, which was red with fury. Eloise sidled up to him and lightly placed a hand against his chest. Immediately grabbing it, he pulled it away before flinging it aside, baring his teeth as he seethed something at her before storming off. His face pinched in pain, his limp much more pronounced now than it had been before.

Emma snapped the curtains closed and quickly dressed, taking a moment to appreciate the garment she was expected to wear even though she was eager to reunite with Killian to ensure he was alright. It was only a simple dress of white cotton with eyelet trim along the edge of the collar, sleeves, and hem, and yet Emma had never worn anything so fine and delicate. After donning her boots and heading out the cabin door, she couldn’t help but hope Killian would approve.

~/~

Several dozen pairs of eyes locked onto her as she and Eloise approached the shore of the lake. Her nerves became palpable once again, but all seemed to melt away when she caught sight of Killian. Having already entered the water, he had not waded out too far for her to miss the stunned expression that overtook him when she came into view. A bright smile lit up his face, and she knew she wore one to match. He held out his arms, beckoning her forward to take his hands, but her path became blocked before she could set foot in the water.

“You look lovely, sister,” Neal praised with a friendly smile, stepping out from the crowd to stand before her. “But there’s something amiss. Allow me.”

His hand gently pulled at the chain resting at the side of her neck until the cross pendant pulled free from beneath the collar of her dress. Adjusting its position, his fingers grazed her collar bone and she had to force herself to not physically recoil from his touch. His eyes lingered on her chest again, and Emma now knew the inappropriateness of his gaze was intentional when he finally raised his head and she saw the salacity swimming in his eyes.

Reality came surging forward in that moment when she caught a similar gleam in the eyes of other men who were assembled on the shore. Foreboding skittered across her skin. Rising dread and the frigid water creeping up her body as she made her way into the lake threatened to steal her breath. Her feet kept moving of their own accord even as her mind raced. Something wasn’t right here. Things suddenly felt terribly wrong to her, but she had no other choice than to reach out and take Killian’s hands.

“You look beautiful, Swan,” he murmured reverently.The compliment made her heart skip despite the trepidation that was still seeping into her.

She didn’t hear anything of the prayer he offered, too preoccupied with calming her mind and pulse. A chorus of amens alerted her to the end of the blessing and she felt Killian start to wrap his arms around her.

“Hold on to me, love,” he advised as he adjusted his stance, bracing himself to support her weight.

Draping an arm over his shoulder and around his neck, Emma prepared herself for full submersion in the lake. With great care, Killian tilted her back until the world around her disappeared and she found herself cut off in a moment of peaceful serenity. All too soon, Killian’s strong arms pulled her from beneath the surface of the water where she was met with the shock of the brisk evening air hitting her wet skin. Before she could open her eyes she was met with yet another shock. Soft, warm, supple lips pressed against hers as his arms tightened around her. Emma allowed herself a moment to bask in the feel of her body pulled flush against his, her hand moving to cup the side of his jaw before her good sense returned.

Jarring back, she blinked the lake water from her eyes and stared up at Killian. He wore a soft smile that did not match his eyes, which were full of apologetic remorse. Emma stepped back further and his arms released her without hesitation. Despite the sense of loss she felt at no longer being held in his embrace, Emma spun around and headed back towards the crowd at the shoreline.

Eager hands and murmurs of congratulations rubbed against her unwelcomingly as she shivered in a state of paralyzed shock at the entire event. A plush towel wrapped around her shoulders, and she could feel Killian’s presence behind her.

“Let’s go get you warm and dry, love,” he encouraged in her ear before steering them through the throng of community members.

They were followed by a myriad of looks, from envious to predatory to genuinely pleased, and not for the first time, Emma silently wondered what the hell she’d gotten herself into.


	4. Chapter 4

 

* * *

 

“Let’s go get you warm and dry, love,” Killian encouraged in her ear before steering them through the throng of community members.

“Actually,” Eloise fell in step beside them and placed a hand on Killian’s bicep, stopping them. “The girls will escort Emma back to the cabin,” she stated in a bored tone. “Your presence has been requested elsewhere.”

“What, now?” Killian snapped. Emma could hear the strain in his voice as he attempted to keep calm.

“Yes. Now,” Eloise drawled smugly. “Unless you’d rather wait another night?”

Indecision and longing wrestled within Killian’s eyes, his mind clearly having been thrown into conflicting turmoil. “I’m sorry, Swan.” His face pinched with reluctance. He obviously had no desire to leave her side, but whatever it was that seemed to demand his presence took precedence over his own wants. “I have something I need to… you go back to the cabin. I won’t be long, and it’ll give you time to change for the celebration.” A forced smile and air of ease had taken over his demeanor while he spoke. Adjusting the towel firmly around her shoulders he whispered in her ear. “Don’t leave the cabin for any reason. Wait until I get back.” He fixed her with a serious gaze until she nodded then placed a quick kiss at her cheek before heading off as quickly as his still injured foot would allow.

Emma stood stunned. It was the second time he’d shown her such affection, and although she knew from the previous evening that a mutual attraction existed between them, she couldn’t help but feel these signs of intimacy were as forced as the civility in his tone and countenance when addressing some of his fellow community members.

“I have to see to the celebration arrangements,” Eloise said as she gestured toward the crowd milling by. “The girls will walk you back to the cabin.”

Emma turned to see three young girls approach her. They each wore nervously excited smiles, two of them she recognized as the ones who had presented her with floral bouquets earlier. Wearing awed expressions they beckoned her to follow, seemingly unsure if they should speak.

“Thank you again for the flowers,” Emma said, hoping to alleviate their nerves, and hers in turn.

The girls giggled ecstatically. “You’re welcome,” the oldest piped up. “I’m Ana. This is my sister Ivy, and this is Margot.”

“Such pretty names,” Emma complimented with a genuine smile. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and reminded her of her sisters when they were all younger. “Ana was my sister’s name.”

“You’re truly blessed,” Ivy blurted before blushing a soft pink.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ana replied. “You’ve been sponsored by Killian.” A dreamy expression fell over Ana and her sister while Margot remained politely silent. “I wish I was older,” Ana continued. “Then maybe he would have chosen me as his first.”

Emma stopped short. “What do you mean by that?” _His first? First what, exactly?_

“You have to be sixteen to be sponsored and tied to another,” Ivy explained. “Margot and I are only fourteen, but Ana is fifteen. She’ll be the next to be sponsored in the village.”

“So,” Emma began walking again, trying to discern the girls’ meanings. “None of you have been baptized yet?”

“Oh! Of course, we have,” Ivy assured. “We’ve been cleansed of the pestilence and its corruption upon the world.”

“I’m sorry.” Emma smiled even as her heart pounded in her chest. None of this was making any sense. “I guess I just don’t understand your customs yet.” She swallowed nervously and wet her lips. “What do you mean by _tied to another_?”

“You’re bound to him by God now,” Margot answered. A look of something distinctly different than the excitement flashed in her eyes before she tore her gaze from Emma’s.

“I hope one day our sponsoring will be as pretty as yours,” Ivy sighed wistfully, stopping in front of Killian’s cabin. “See you at the celebration, Emma!”

Ana and Ivy waved before walking off, giggling to themselves. Margot followed, looking back over her shoulder with an encouraging smile that didn’t match the rest of her demeanor.

Emma rushed inside the cabin, pressing her back against the door once she had it firmly closed behind her. _Breathe, Emma. Just breathe._ Sponsored? Tied? Bound to one another by God? What had she agreed to in that lake? What was Killian expecting of her? Anger mixed with fear and betrayal undulated through her gut. Was this why he asked her here? To be his… first? She didn’t even understand what that meant, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to wait around to find out.

_How could you have been such an idiot!_

Reaching for the knob of the door, Emma realized there was no lock. Without knowing how soon Killian would return, she wasted no time stripping the wet garment from her body so she could redress, grab her pack, and head back towards the main gate. Except her pack wasn’t where she’d left it. Neither were her clothes still piled in a heap at the foot of Killian’s bed.

Panic set in as Emma stood naked in the center of the room, until her eyes landed on the wardrobe. Throwing open the doors, she found many of her things hanging next to Killian’s; all of her belongings seemingly put away by a member of the community. Why? She didn’t have time to ponder it. After finding her pack at the bottom of the wardrobe, Emma dressed quickly and began shoving her belongings back into the bag. She was nearly finished when she heard Killian’s questioning voice sound from behind her.

“Swan? What are you doing?”

Startled, Emma swung around to face him, fortifying herself as she answered, “Leaving.”

Killian blanched then glanced over his shoulder before shutting the door. “What do you mean, you’re leaving?”

“I mean… I’m going home.”

His brows pinched together. “Why?”

“Why? Are you serious?!”

“Is this about the kiss?” he started to move towards her, his limp even more pronounced than it had been earlier. “Look, I am sorry about that, but there wasn’t time beforehand to explain-

Emma raised her hand to stay his words and his approach. “You know, I’m pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me, and even though you haven’t told me an all out lie, I know you haven’t been completely honest with me either.”

“You’re right, I haven’t,” he admitted freely with a note of pleading pulling on his words. “But I swear to you, Swan, it’s never been my intention to h-”

“Cut the bullshit, Killian!” Emma snapped in a raised tone.

“Emma, keep your voice down,” he admonished softly, taking another concerned look over his shoulder at the door.

“Tell me what it really means,” she demanded, bringing his focus back to her.

“What?”

“Being _tied_ to you. _Sponsored_ by you.” Her body began to tremble with anger. Why couldn’t he have just been honest with her? “I talked to some of the village girls, and they made it sound like I was married to you now, that we were _bound by God_. Is that what that _Baptism_ really meant? Because, I never agreed to that.”

“I know that, love.”

“Don’t call me that!” The flare of anger in her gut sparked to an inferno. She didn’t want to hear the endearment that had come to mean so much to her. She hadn’t even realized just how much until that moment.

“Alright.” He raised his hands in supplication, attempting to calm her once more. “Alright, Swan. Just please, keep your voice down, and I’ll explain everything.”

“I don’t need you to explain,” Emma snapped. She didn’t want to hear his excuses. She just wanted to leave. She never should have left home in the first place. “I finally understand what those men we came across in the woods meant by _the religious folk by the lake_. You’re all a bunch of fanatics and zealots. Twisting God’s Word to suit your own selfish desires.”

“I am not a zealot, Swan,” he asserted. His own agitation rising to the surface as it clipped and snapped around each word. “I am a man who’s had to watch his beliefs be bastardized by vile and corrupt men and women. Who’s had to endure unspeakable things in order to survive. A man desperate to escape this place, but unable to do so without help.”

“What are you talking about? You _were_ out!” she reminded him. “If you’re so desperate to escape, why come back at all? You could have just not returned and left me out of it.”

“I couldn’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Because I,” his voice hitched and the pained expression overtaking his face almost broke Emma’s heart. “I can’t leave my daughter behind.”

Emma balked. “Y-Your daughter?” She stared at him as tears pooled in his eyes. Her mind frantically tried to wrap itself around his words. “You have a daughter?”

“Aye. Her name is Alice.” Despite the raw and desperate emotions simmering beneath the surface, he couldn’t seem to help but smile as he said her name.

“Who… who’s her mother?” Emma asked, though she was willing to bet she already knew.

Killian’s fists balled at his sides. “The woman who was _my_ sponsor.”

“Eloise,” she said knowingly as bile worked its way up her throat. So, that’s what the woman had meant by Killian being hers first. “If you’re with her, then how can I be tied to you?”

“I am _not_ with her, Swan,” Killian stated emphatically. “And you and I are only tied to one another in the community’s eyes. Sponsorship did not always equate with being bound to another, that’s something that’s happened over time.” He ran his hands through his hair, sweeping them overhead then back around the base of his neck until settling them in the crook between his neck and shoulders. “Look. It’s all a bit complicated, and there’s not time to explain everything now, so _please,_ I just need you to trust me a little bit longer. We’ll get through the celebration, then I can tell you everything.”

“Trust you?” Emma scoffed. “I can’t trust you now. How can I?”

“I know,” he murmured with heavy regret. “But you don’t have any other choice. They won’t let you just walk out of here. Not now.”

“Why not?”

“Because you made a commitment to the village when you agreed to be baptized. A vow you can’t go back on without consequences.”

Emma swallowed at the genuinely fearful look in Killian’s eyes, unsure if she wanted to know what those consequences were exactly.

“I can get you out of here if that’s what you want, but it’ll take time. For now, your best option is to play the part, starting with the celebration.”

“I thought you needed me in order to get your daughter out of here,” she accused, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I do,” he affirmed. “And it’s my hope that once I’ve explained everything, you’ll want to do that, but I won’t hold you hostage, Swan. If you decide to leave after learning everything. I’ll help you get free.”

The truth of his words blazed from his eyes. He would help her escape this place if that’s what she wanted. She just had to trust him for the next few hours then…

“What happens afterward?” Emma asked suspiciously.

“After what?” Killian asked with furrowed brows.

“We go to the celebration, acting like the happy newly bound couple, then you explain everything to me, and then what? I assume there isn’t another cabin or room being prepared for me since I found my things already cozily put away in here with yours.”

“Aye, there’s not,” Killian sighed. “But I promise you, Emma.” There was a hard edge to his tone, and an intensely earnest look in his brilliant blue eyes. “I expect _nothing_ of you. I would never expect or accept anything that wasn’t offered by your own free will.” He took a deep shuddering breath, his tongue running along his lower lip before pulling it between his teeth, the indentation quite visible on the tender flesh when he released it from their grip. “For as long as you’re here though, you’ll have to remain in this cabin. You can have the bed, and I’ll take the sofa.”

Emma stared with unfocused eyes while trying to process the options before her. Not that there were many. She had no one within the village whom she could trust, and if what Killian said was true, there was no way to leave without his assistance. The walls started to close in on her. Trapped. She was trapped here. She never should have left her homestead, never should have trusted that soft lilt and too blue eyes, never should have believed God was providing her an opportunity to make Ingrid’s final wish come true. Solitude was better than this. It never let you down.

“Emma, look at me,” Killian said, stirring her from the spiral of despair and panic that had gripped her. Her eyes snapped up to meet his earnest gaze, and he asked, “Have I told you a lie?” Her brows drew together and a scoffing sound punctuated the air between them. “In the last few minutes?” he clarified. “Have I said anything that wasn’t true? You said you could detect when someone was lying to you, so tell me… am I lying when I say I mean you no harm? That I brought you here in the hopes you could help me and my daughter get away? That if you choose it, I will help you leave this place, tonight if possible?”

Emma knew he wasn’t lying, had known even before the words had left his lips. Truth wasn’t the issue. Trust was. The question wasn’t whether he was being honest, it was whether she was willing to trust him. Betrayal could just as easily happen with truth as it could with deception, a lesson she’d learned in the past hour. Along with the knowledge that such betrayal hurt far worse than that of overt duplicity. Of course, that was because she’d been putting her trust in the wrong place, Emma realized. Killian might yet prove himself trustworthy, but he wasn’t the one Emma needed to have faith in right now.

A knock hammered against the door. “Brother!” Neal’s voice called out. “We are all awaiting our guest of honor!”

Killian’s attention didn’t waiver from her, his question still drifting between them without any measure of pressure, despite the urgency of the moment. “Alright,” Emma released on a quiet breath. Killian’s shoulders sagged in relief, and he wet his lips once more before offering her a nod of understanding, cementing their agreement.

~/~

“The village started with just five families,” Neal explained as they gathered around one of the fire pits after the evening meal. A meal that had included splendor, the likes of which Emma had never before experienced.

Once fed, the elders had led her to a cluster of chairs, all draped with cozy blankets. Neal had taken the central seat with Eloise positioned to his right. On her other side was Victoria, another village elder and the mother of Ivy and Ana. Neal had insisted that Emma take the seat to his left, which she did reluctantly. Killian settled himself in the chair beside her, but not before moving it closer to hers, an action that had both Eloise and Victoria’s eyes narrowing. Robin rounded out their group, taking up the last seat of their semi-circle around the fire next to Killian.

“The pioneer survivalist experiment Killian told me about?”

Neal nodded, turning his body to give her the majority of his attention. She wished he wouldn’t. “That’s right. My family, the Cassidys, plus the Jones, the Gardeners, the Belfreys, and the Wests were the original families. Members of those families make up the elder council. All of us,” he gestured to the others sat around the fire, “were here before the pestilence began. Except for Robin.”

Emma swiveled her head, and fixed her gaze on the man in question. “Your family wasn’t one of the founders?”

“No,” he answered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Something similar to a look she’d seen in Killian’s gaze flashed in his eyes. “I was sponsored by the last remaining member of the West family. She and her father had been part of the initial expedition.”

“What happened to them?”

“He lost his way early on, I’m afraid,” Neal replied, attempting to draw her attention back to him.

“Lost his way?”

“Mr. West was the one who established our distillery,” Killian answered, allowing her to keep her focus on what she subconsciencly deemed the _safer_ side of the circle. “Unfortunately, once things became dire, he turned to the drink for comfort.”

“Forsaking the true path,” Eloise cut in. “He fell into the sin of drunkenness and was punished for it.”

Emma was taken aback by that statement. “What do you mean, he was punished?”

“Drunkenness is an act of the flesh,” Neal declared. Emma didn’t much care for the way his eyes roamed over her when he uttered the word _flesh._ “Galatians 5:21 tells us that those who live by the flesh will not inherit the kingdom of God. He was struck down during the first winter of the pestilence.”

“Struck down?”

“He passed out, drunk,” Killian added, a sad glimmer shining in his and Robin’s eyes which was a stark contrast to the hardened self-righteousness she’d seen in the other’s. “Died of exposure.”

“The first of the unworthy the Lord delivered us from,” Victoria stated coldly.

Killian’s jaw clenched, but he managed to keep the rest of his expression neutral.

“And his daughter? Your sponsor?” Emma asked Robin.

“She died in childbirth.” Robin’s gaze moved to the cluster of young girls gathered around a nearby fire pit, and landed on Margot.

Emma’s eyes widened when realization settled in. “Margot? She’s…”

“Aye, she’s mine,” Robin confirmed. “As is Roland.” He nodded towards a young boy of about six or seven who was sat next to Margot, throwing bits of debris into the flames while chattering excitedly to the indulgent group around him. “I sponsored his mother when she came to the village about ten years ago,” he continued, an air of grief enveloping his words as he imparted. “She was taken by the influenza that struck the community a year ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” Emma expressed with sincerity. While she’d gotten the sense there hadn’t been much in the way of affection between him and the woman who’d birthed Margot, it was clear he’d loved Roland’s mother. Although, now that she thought about it, Emma couldn’t help but wonder if that affection had been returned. Had the woman been sponsored in the same way Emma had? Had she known what she was signing up for when she’d arrived at the village?

“We lost a number of good people to it,” Victoria added. Her husband had also fallen victim to the illness, as had Neal’s Grandfather - the infamous Malcolm the men from the woods had referred to.

Turned out it had been Malcolm who’d funded the grant that had established the original village. He, his son, and his grandson had joined the Joneses in their endeavor. Victoria and her husband were graduate students assigned to the project, while Eloise and her parents, as well as the Wests had all answered an advertisement seeking volunteers. Other families had joined in on the experiment during the year or so before the sickness broke out. Though they had created the settlement far from civilization, their existence hadn’t been a secret so once the pestilence began, more began to arrive seeking protection and shelter.

Emma had to focus on what was _not_ being said as much as what was freely shared by the elders in order to get a somewhat clear picture of the community’s history. Fearful of the pestilence, Malcolm had begun an initiative to secure their little village. Walls were erected, and isolation pits were dug where newcomers were kept in quarantine until observation ensured they weren’t sick. While Malcolm and his son had provided logistical leadership, it had been Killian’s parents who’d taken up the role of spiritual advisors, giving people hope and a faith to cling to during those dark times.

Until Killian’s mother passed.

Overcome with grief and the pressure of raising two young sons in what was arguably the most devastating years humanity had seen in centuries, if ever, Brennan Jones had become withdrawn. Emma got the sense that Eloise and Neal’s father had capitalized on the man’s weakness in order to begin preaching their own brand of theology, a theology that only seemed to have become more corrupt as the years passed. Especially after Neal had been declared as some sort of post pestilence messiah by his grandfather.

Emma’s stomach turned while listening to scriptures, taken wildly out of context, dripped from the silver tongues of Neal, Eloise, and Victoria. Every so often, a soft _amen_ would be murmured by Robin and Killian. Remembering how incensed Killian had been when he’d professed to not be one of them, that he’d had to endure the twisting of his faith, gave Emma a modicum of reassurance in her gut instinct that these meager agreements were just for show. When Emma began asking questions about when the concept of sponsoring had begun, the subject was quickly changed and refocused onto her.

“Everyone here serves a role for the greater good,” Victoria said. “Tell us. Do you have any special skills or areas of expertise?”

“Emma is a metal worker,” Killian informed them. “She’s extremely skilled in forge work.” Emma felt heat rush to her cheeks at his compliment despite the irritation that had briefly sparked within her chest at his answering for her.

“Is that so?” Robin questioned, leaning forward in his seat with renewed interest at the subject.

“Yes.” Emma replied.

“How on earth did you come to acquire such a skill?”

“There used to be a man who lived in the area who knew how to forge,” she explained. “He taught me one summer in exchange for provisions from our garden. His hands had become gnarled and painful. He couldn’t do much in the way of work, so he traded his knowledge for our labor.”

“Neighbor helping neighbor,” Neal sermonized. “You’ll find we operate much the same way here. You should fit right in.”

Emma offered a tight and tolerant smile while mentally vowing to never _fit in_ with the likes of these people and their duplicitous doctrines.

“Killian?” Robin questioned. “Would you mind if I showed Emma our forge? We haven’t had a decent smith in such a long time I find myself rather eager to get her started.”

Killian turned and raised his brows at Emma in silent query. Only after she nodded did he reply with his consent.

“Terrific,” Robin beamed as he stood and extended his hand out to help her from her seat. “I’ll have her back in a jiffy.”

Nerves suddenly fluttered in her gut. She had no idea where the forge was. What was she thinking going off with this man on her own in the pitch black of night? As if he’d sensed her abrupt hesitation, Killian called out for them to wait. Standing, he plucked the quilt that had cushioned her chair and walked over to wrap it around her shoulders.

“It’s alright, lov- er, Swan. You can trust Robin,” he whispered while making a show of adjusting the blanket around her. “The forge is just off the square. You won’t be far off, and still within view of others.”

It frustrated her how easily he was able read her and how much his words gave her comfort. She was supposed to be angry with him. She _was_ angry with him, but she was also starting to get a better understanding of the desperation that had driven him to do what he’d done. Not that it made a difference. She wasn’t staying here any longer than she had to, no matter how good the food was, or how nice it was to hear the sounds of people doing life together, or how impressive the forge was.

“Where did all of this come from?” she asked in awe once she and Robin arrived at the forge. Even in the dim light of the lantern and the soft flood of illumination from the fire pits, Emma could see their set up was far more advanced than hers was back home.

“Our last smith arrived with some of it,” Robin replied. “The rest we scavenged.”

Unease skittered down Emma’s spine. “What happened to him? Your last blacksmith.”

Robin’s expression turned grave, and he cast a look over his shoulder before grimly stating, “He strayed from the true path.” Before she could ask exactly what he meant by that, he began pointing out various tools and elements she’d have at her disposal. “Defense is always our highest priority, so tomorrow I’ll be bringing you some weapons in need of repair. We can chat about other things the village needs then as well.” He chuckled lightly and fixed her with a amused look. “Be prepared for a busy few days. People will no doubt have their own items that will need your attention, and,” he paused, nonchalantly glancing about, “they’ll be curious about you, so it’ll be important for you to remember,” he stepped closer to her and lowered his voice, “someone is _always_ watching and listening here. Until you learn our ways, you’ll need to watch what you say.”

Emma nodded that she understood his meaning. In spite of herself, she liked Robin, but she wasn’t sure how much she could actually trust him. Even though Killian had given his word that he’d help her get free of this place, Emma knew the only one she could truly rely on to save her, was herself. She’d been hatching a backup plan all evening, but getting out the front gate would be useless without her gun and knife. Perhaps Robin could help her with that?

“So, as the keeper of the armory,” she began innocently, “if I needed to retrieve my weapons for repairs then get access to the outside so I could test them... is that something you could help me with?”

An amused smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, confirming that she hadn’t fooled him for a moment. “For your sake, I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask that.”

“I didn’t mean to… I was just wondering…” Emma felt panic well up within her until Robin waved off her feeble protests.

“I get it, Emma,” he assured her. “You didn’t know what you were getting into when you came here, and now that you do, you want to get the hell out.”

“How did you-”

“I could see the guilt all over Killian when you two arrived,” he answered. “Plus, I know him. This isn’t a life he’d wish on anyone. I might not know all the reasons why he brought you here, but I do know he didn’t do so lightly. He and I are very much alike in that way.”

“Does that mean _she_ knew before going into the lake?” Emma asked, an accusatory tone grating her words. “The woman you sponsored?”

“No. She didn’t.” Robin didn’t seem put off by her tone, but didn’t hesitate to respond to her implications, correcting her assumptions with great vehemence. “I sponsored Marion to protect her, much like Killian has done for you. Most others in this village would have demanded… _things_ from her. I never asked her for anything she wasn’t willing to give, and in time we grew to love one another.” He sighed and the fervor with which he’d defended himself lessened as he said, “I’ll understand if you don’t believe me. After all, Marion isn’t here to back up my claims, and given your current situa-”

“I believe you,” Emma blurted out.

Robin stared at her in astonishment. ”Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why are you willing to give me the benefit of the doubt, but not Killian?”

“What do you mean?” Robin gave her a pointed look, and his words from earlier came rushing back. _There’s always someone watching and listening._ “You heard us?”

“Not everything, but I got the gist of it,” he answered. “I know he’s desperate to get Alice out of here, which I completely understand, I have a daughter, too. He seems to think you can help him, but he isn’t selfish enough for that to be the only reason he brought you here. I do know this, though,” he added when Emma opened her mouth to question what other motives Killian might have, “Killian Jones is a good man.” Robin stated emphatically. “Despite everything he’s been through, he’s never lost his faith or the principles of _good form_ his family tried to establish within him.”

“What exactly has he been through?” Emma questioned, though she wasn’t sure she was ready for the answer.

“That’s not my tale to tell.”

His words came out in something of a strained whisper, and Emma got the sense that some of Killian’s tale just might reflect Robin’s own, in part if not in whole.

“Dad? It’s getting late. I think we should get Roland to bed,” Margot called out as she approached with her sleepy eyed brother stumbling beside her with heavy, exhausted feet.

Robin smiled and nodded at his daughter, then turned back to Emma. “Would you like me to walk you back over to the others?”

Emma looked past the various fires still burning brightly and set her gaze on Killian. He was engaged in a conversation with a young man she’d not yet met who’d taken up residence in her seat. Every so often Killian’s eyes would flick in her direction, as if he were keeping an eye on her, making sure she was still where she was supposed to be, which he most likely was. It didn’t feel possessive or overbearing, more a protective instinct to make sure she didn’t wander off into unknown trouble. Regardless, it made her chaffe, as did the idea of having to converse any longer with the other elders.

“I think I’ll familiarize myself with the forge a bit more before heading back over,” she told Robin.

“Very well. Just make sure you don’t wander off,” he warned, then bid her goodnight.

Emma waved to Margot before the trio set off towards their cabin. Once alone, she felt some of the tension she’d been holding melt away as she immersed herself in the familiarity of the forge set up. With any luck, Killian would be able to get her away tonight, but the more she explored the equipment and tools, the more she almost wished it would take a few days so she could play with the resources before her.

Almost.

Robin’s words kept replaying themselves over and over again in her mind. _I sponsored Marion to protect her, much like Killian has done for you… Killian Jones is a good man… Despite everything he’s been through… he’s desperate to get Alice out of here… he isn’t selfish enough for that to be the only reason he brought you here._ What other reason did he have for bringing her here? Why did he need her help in getting Alice out of the compound? Where was Alice? Why hadn’t she met her yet? Perhaps the celebration had extended past her bedtime? Emma knew next to nothing about the child, not even how old she was.

All she knew for sure was that Killian was her father and Eloise was her mother - a fact that made Emma’s stomach turn over. There was no evidence of the child in Killian’s cabin, so she could only assume Alice lived with her mother. Why, though? Killian didn’t seem the type to want to be separated from his own flesh and blood. The love he held for his little girl had been more than apparent in those brief moments of revelation in his cabin. Emma might be struggling with her own trust in the man, but one thing she knew for certain was that Killian would do anything for his child.

_Like essentially marrying a woman he barely knew in the hopes she might help him kidnap his daughter from the only home she’d ever known,_ her mind snapped bitterly. _Don’t forget that, Emma!_

Having no desire to rejoin the celebration, Emma set off for Killian’s cabin with the intent of making sure her belongings had all made it into her pack when she’d gathered them in haste earlier. She wanted to be ready to go the moment Killian was finished presenting his case; a resolve she had to keep repeating to herself, unwilling to allow anything he might say to persuade her into staying.

Emma passed the last fire, Killian’s cabin just steps away, when she heard a quiet _psst_ sound from around the corner of the structure. A blonde head was peaking around the side of the cabin, a hand beckoning her forward, as the young girl’s eyes darted around the square.

“Are you Emma?” the girl asked.

“Yes,” Emma drawled out hesitantly, taking in the girl’s appearance. She looked to be about twelve or thirteen. Her thin frame and the pallor of her skin, even in the darkness of the night, betrayed her frailty, and Emma wondered if the poor thing had suffered from some sort of lengthy illness.

“I knew you must be!” she replied enthusiastically, throwing her arms around Emma’s waist. “Papa said you were pretty.”

“Papa?” Emma gasped with fresh understanding. “Are you? _You’re_ Alice?” She felt the girl’s head bob up and down in confirmation. “How...How old are you, Alice?”

“Twelve,” she answered brightly, releasing Emma and looking around once more to make sure no one else was around. “Nearly thirteen, though.”

_Twelve? That meant Killian had to have been… what? Fifteen? Sixteen? When she’d been born?_

A fresh shudder rolled through Emma at the implications of such a fact, and a flood of questions she hadn’t allowed herself to consider washed over her.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come to your baptism or the celebration,” Alice prattled on. “Mother wouldn’t allow it. Papa was very cross with her. Of course, Papa is always very cross with Mother, even though he tries to hide it from me. I can always tell when his smiles aren’t real, and they never are when he talks of Mother, but they were when he told me about you. I’m so happy you’re here, and that you make Papa smile real smiles.”

Emma had no idea how to respond to that statement. Especially when images of Killian’s face, beaming with a smile because of something she’d said, or the way he’d lit up when he saw her approach the lake, were swirling through her mind.

“Why, uh… why weren’t you allowed to come to the baptism or the celebration?”

Alice looked around again before leaned in to whisper conspiratorially to Emma. “I’m not supposed to leave my room. Mother doesn’t know I’m out, but I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to meet you. Promise you won’t tell?”

She was definitely Killian’s child, with the way she was looking up at her with the same pleading blue eyes. “Why can’t you leave your room?”

No sooner had the question left her lips when Emma saw Alice’s eyes roll back before she pitched forward into Emma’s alarmed embrace. Carefully, she tried to lower Alice to the ground, but the girl began convulsing in Emma’s arms, collapsing them both into the dirt.

“Oh, my God! Alice?” Emma cried out to the unresponsive girl as she continued to seize. With Alice secured in her arms, Emma turned her body toward the village square and frantically called out, “Help! Killian, help! Please! Someone, come quick!”

Shouts echoed from the square, followed by swift footfalls. A door close by crashed opened, and a moment later Robin was at her side, followed quickly by Killian.

“Alice?” Killian dropped to his knees next to his daughter and reached for her, taking her from Emma’s grasp and into his own. “Help me turn her onto her side,” he called out.

An elbow forced Emma out of the way, her back hit the side of Killian’s cabin as Eloise’s wild hair came into view.

“What happened?” the woman snapped. “What on earth is she doing here? How did she get out of her room?”

“She wanted to meet me,” Emma said shakily as unexpected worry coursed through her.

Eloise’s head whipped around and she fixed her cold eyes onto Emma. “And you just let her stand out here in the cold?”

Emma’s mouth fell open, and she bristled at the woman’s accusatory tone.

“Don’t you dare blame Emma,” Killian growled low. “Perhaps if you’d let her attend the celebration and let her meet Emma properly, she wouldn’t have felt the need to-”

“Are you suggesting this is my fault?” Eloise hissed back. “You never should have indulged her ridiculous desire to venture outside. I told you she wasn’t strong enough. I warned you she wasn’t even up to seeing you, but you insisted-”

“She’s my daughter, Eloise! I hadn’t seen her in weeks! Of course, I insisted on seeing her!”

“Papa?” Alice croaked, drawing everyone’s attention. Emma breathed a sigh of relief that she’d stopped convulsing and was conscious once again.

“Aye, starfish. Papa’s here,” Killian responded. The tenderness in his voice pulled at Emma’s heart. As scared as she’d been, she couldn’t imagine what he’d been going through as his child shook in his embrace. Although, given the girl’s sickly disposition, he might very well be used to it by now. If a parent ever could get used to their child being ill. “Let’s get you back to your room, little love.”

Killian gathered Alice up into his arms and carefully stood with her cradled in his embrace.

“I’m sorry, Papa,” she said sleepily. “I wanted to meet Miss Emma.”

“It’s alright, starfish,” he soothed, adjusting her weight.

“You were right, Papa,” she murmured. “She’s very nice. And pretty. I like her.”

Killian’s eyes left his daughter’s face and settled on Emma. Her already pounding heart thumped painfully against her ribs, and her breath caught at the look in his eyes.

“So do I, love. So do I.”


	5. Chapter 5

Killian ran his hand down his face, an exhausting tension clenching at his shoulders as he pulled in a stinging breath from the cold night air. The shift in the day’s weather mirrored the upheaval in the overall atmosphere of his world. Just as summer had seemed to come to an abrupt end, with the dropping temperatures and bluster of northerly winds, so too had the sweet camaraderie he’d established with Emma. Swept away by the reveal of a cold, harsh reality.

He wished he could go back and tell her the truth from the beginning.

“How’s Alice?”

Robin’s question cut through the turmoil of Killian’s thoughts, allowing him to take a moment’s refuge.

“She’s sleeping now. Eloise believes she’ll be fine by morning.”

Robin nodded. “I’m sure she will be. She always bounces back quickly from these episodes.”

“Aye.” Killian looked back over his shoulder at the structure that housed his little starfish. He hated having to leave her there in the care of her mother, but he had no other choice. Taking solace in the fact that his Alice was at least at peace in her dreams, Killian turned his thoughts back to the pressing matter still awaiting his attention this evening. “Where’s Emma?”

“In your cabin,” Robin answered. “Waiting for you.”

Killian filled his lungs again before exhaling a lamented breath. “I’ve messed everything up. I shouldn’t have brought her here.”

“Why did you?”

Killian shook his head and stared at his feet. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” Robin pressed, causing a surge of irritation to flair within Killian.

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“Of course it does.” Robin stepped forward and placed a hand on Killian’s shoulder. “Look, mate. I know you’ve been beating yourself up for not being honest with Emma, but you brought her here for a reason and knowing you… it was as much for her benefit as yours.”

“How do you know that?” Killian snapped. “How do you know it wasn’t out of some selfish desire to use her in order to help me and Alice?”

“Because I know you.” His grip tightened, forcing Killian to look his friend in the eye. “You aren’t Malcolm. You aren’t Neal, or Eloise, or any of them. Maybe you didn’t do things properly, but you can confess it all to her now.”

“What’s the point? She’ll just insist on leaving anyway, and I’ve already given my word to help her escape.”

“Trust me on this, mate,” Robin implored. “Tell her your story, come clean about your motives - all of them - and she’ll stay.”

Killian tried to smother the hope that flared in his chest at his friend’s words. “How can you be so sure?”

Robin shrugged and removed his hand. “Call it a hunch,” he said with a wink and cheeky grin before walking off and disappearing into the blackness of the night.

~/~

When Killian entered his cabin he found Swan sitting on the sofa, head in hands with her elbows braced against her knees. Her head shot up at the sound of the door and she stood quickly.

“Is Alice okay?”

“She’s fine,” Killian assured her. “She’s resting comfortably now.”

“What, uh… what happened? Why did she… what’s wrong with-”

Emma couldn’t seem to articulate the questions she must have been pondering since meeting Alice, and his heart stuttered at the care and concern evident in Emma’s tone and demeanor for his daughter. Offering her a small smile of understanding he suggested, “Why don’t you sit down Swan, and I’ll explain everything. As promised.”

Emma complied, resuming her place on the sofa while Killian positioned himself on the edge of his bed, using the expanse of the room to create a comfortable distance between them. His heart pounded in his chest, thoughts whipping wildly through his mind as Swan’s eyes pierced him with their intense and expectant stare.

Killian ran his palms, now damp with a slick sheen of anxiety over the tops of his thighs and gave a wryly amused huff before muttering, “I’m not sure where to begin.”

“Begin with Alice,” Emma prompted. “What’s wrong with her?”

“We don’t really know,” Killian sighed heavily. “She’s been ill for most of her life, but no one has been able to find a definitive reason as to why.”

“Are there no doctors here?”

“No. Only healers.” Killian’s jaw clenched, causing his next words to snap out with a tight force. “Well, _healer_. Singular. We used to have a doctor as part of the community, but he _strayed from the true path._ ”

“Robin said something similar about the blacksmith that was here before. What exactly does that mean? What happened to them?”

Killian wet his lips and took a fortifying breath, readying himself to express the first of many atrocities Swan would have to endure the telling of this evening. “They openly challenged Malcolm, our former lead elder, Neal’s grandfather.” He leaned forward and fixed Emma with a stern look, warning, “Voicing an opinion against the elders is not wise, especially when it is purported that one hears directly from God Himself.”

“You mean Neal?” Killian nodded. “So, everyone here believes that Neal speaks for God? Why?”

“Because, according to Malcolm, someone has to. And, no. Not everyone believes Neal actually speaks for God, but they’re all too afraid of… straying from the path.”

An expression of dread passed over Emma’s features, and she swallowed thickly before asking, “What happens when people stray from the path?”

“The official story is that they are asked to leave the village, shunned from the community and forced to make it on their own out in the world. In truth…” Killian trailed off, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see Emma’s reaction. “They are taken out into the woods, tied to a tree, and left for the beasts.”

Emma’s horrified gasp filled the cabin. “God, Killian. Who are you people?”

Killian’s eyes snapped open and he turned his imploring blues onto her. “I told you, Swan. I am a man who has been forced to sit by and watch his beliefs be twisted into something reprehensible. I’ve obeyed their rules, played along as a good little community member, and elder, in order to survive. But I am _not_ one of them.”

“No, you’re not. I’m sorry.” There was no way for Killian to suppress his stunned response to her words. His lips parted and his brows shot up his forehead at the earnest look of understanding she was giving him. “What I don’t understand,” she began softly, “is how this all happened? How did the village go from the refuge your parents and others first hoped it would be to… this.”

“How do any atrocities come to be, Swan?” Killian posed. “One compromise at a time.”

Emma chewed on his words for a moment. “When did it start?”

Killian thought back, searching his memory for what might have been the first catalyst towards corruption. “Probably when Neal’s father sponsored a young girl by the name of Belle,” he concluded. “She was brought to the village not long after my father disappeared. She and a few others, survivors of the pestilence, wishing to join the community for protection. I think she must have been about fifteen or sixteen? She was sponsored by the Cassidys, but a few months later it became apparent that something… untoward was happening.”

“What do you mean?”

“Belle began to show.”

“She was pregnant?”

“Aye. By Neal’s father. A man old enough to be _her_ father.”

“Oh, my God.” Emma’s nose crinkled in disgust.

“Aye. That was most people’s reaction, until Malcolm ordained that God blessed the union. Belle was the first to become _tied_ to her sponsor, but it would be several years before the two events would become synonymous with one another.”

“So, you weren’t automatically tied to Eloise when she became your sponsor?”

“No. There was a time when each event was distinct from one another; a baptism to cleanse you of the pestilence and commit yourself to the village and its teachings, sponsorship for newcomers or those orphaned within the village, and a tying ceremony to bind a couple before God. The events could be combined into one ritual, but it wasn’t until about seven years ago that sponsoring and tying became one and the same.”

“So even though you were about fifteen or sixteen - based on how old Alice is - when Eloise sponsored you, she didn’t try to tie-”

“Thirteen.”

“What?”

“I was thirteen when Eloise sponsored me. Fifteen when she became pregnant and sixteen when Alice was born.”

Emma’s mouth fell open. “Thirteen? She… you… _thirteen_?”

“ _That_ didn’t happen right away,” he said, knowing exactly where her mind had gone, based on the look of outrage that riddled her brow.

“How did it happen?” Killian balked and his pulse started to race from his initial interpretation of her question. “Not… I mean… not _that_ ,” she clarified hurriedly, and Killian took in a deep breath, relieved that he’d misunderstood her meaning. He wasn’t sure he was prepared to tell her about _that_ just yet. “How did she become your sponsor in the first place? Why her?”

“From what I gather, she volunteered after Liam died.”

“What happened to him?” Emma asked softly, with an unexpected look of compassion swimming in her eyes.

“The Changing.” The words were barely audible as they crossed his lips, as was the soft gasp that fell from hers. “He’d gone into the city with a few others to scavenge for supplies. By the time they’d returned, they were all exhibiting signs of the disease.” Killian swept a hand through his hair then rubbed his palms back and forth along his thighs again before balling his fists atop his legs. “Malcolm decreed that they be taken into the woods by their kin and given a merciful death.”

“Their kin? You mean-”

“Aye,” he interrupted, catching her wide, disbelieving eyes with his own while confessing in a stuttering of strained words. “I shot… I shot my own brother.” His teeth ground together, making the muscle in his jaw jump as he desperately clung to any measure of composure he could muster in order to get the words out. “Then I had to shoot Neal’s father, who had been a part of the expedition with Liam, because Neal couldn’t bring himself to do it. We… We weren’t allowed to bury them. Had to just… leave them there. Tied to a tree. For the animals to scavenge.”

Emma’s eyes fell shut, a single tear escaping her lashes, inviting the ones pooling in his vision to join in its escape. Killian shook his head and cleared his throat, relieving some of the tightness gripping his chest.

“When we returned to the village, we were forced into isolation pits for observation, to ensure we hadn’t contracted the sickness.”

“How long did they keep you there?”

“Ten days,” Killian answered hollowly.

For a moment he was transported back to that dark, dank pit. The bitter cold that gnawed at his bones at night. The hunger and thirst that had plagued him. Days spent overcome with grief and guilt while fear ran rampant as he waited for the signs to manifest themselves. Signs that would indicate he too might be sick. The mixture of contradictory prayers he’d sent up, begging God to save him from such a fate in one breath while hoping for the Change so he could be reunited with his family in the next.

“Once it was apparent that none of us were affected, they released us. Everyone returned to their remaining families, to their homes, except for me. Eloise stepped forward and declared herself my Sponsor, Malcolm approved it, and I was moved into her cabin later that day.”

The bed creaked and dipped beside him. He hadn’t even realized Emma had gotten up and walked over until she was seated next to him.

“I’m so sorry, Killian,” she whispered with a sniffle. “Losing those we love is hard enough, but to be so young and… God,” she closed her eyes again and swallowed thickly, “to have to shoot your own brother at thirteen? How do you ever get over something like that?”

“You don’t,” he offered wryly before giving her something that might resemble a smile, grateful for her comfort, though he knew he didn’t truly deserve it.

Emma sat patiently while Killian stumbled through the story of being in Eloise’s _care._ How the hugs and affectionate touches had at first been a welcomed comfort after losing his brother, but eventually grew... unwelcomed.

Killian tried to be as vague as he could, for Emma’s sake, but each memory the tale dredged up played itself in vivid detail upon his mind’s eye, forcing him to relive the degradation and shame. Reminders of the way his adolescent body had unwillingly turn traitor to her advances, forcing him into a pattern of self-harm. How he learned early on to be wary of any offer of food or drink from her hand, lest it be drugged; a warning he passed to Emma, making her promise to not accept provisions from anyone within the village.

When Killian turned fifteen, believing he was old enough and strong enough to survive on his own, he began making plans to escape. Plans, he theorized, Eloise must have become suspicious of, allowing herself to become pregnant in order to force him into staying. A theory Emma vehemently agreed with, especially when Killian told her how Eloise held little to no affection for the baby all through her pregnancy and even after Alice’s birth. Most of the time it had been left to him to care for their child, he’d even been the one to name her when Eloise couldn’t be bothered, so he’d chosen Alice, after his mother.

The confidence to strike out on his own, even with the added responsibility of his little girl, came again when Alice was about five. An influx of newcomers into the village offered him an opportunity to finally get out from under Eloise’s roof, which he’d hoped would provide him the freedom to plan his and Alice’s escape without drawing her suspicion.

“There were more children than village families capable of taking them in,” Killian explained. “Malcolm suggested placing them under one roof and under the care of one of the single women. He asked the elders to bring nominations for who might be the best candidate. I nominated Eloise.”

“But,” Emma furrowed her brow, “she wasn’t single. She had you and Alice.”

“That’s exactly what Victoria said, until I reminded her that Eloise and I were not tied to one another,” he replied with a smirk. “I told the elders I couldn’t think of a more suitable mother to all those orphaned children than the woman who’d borne my Alice, that I felt God was calling her to such a purpose. Who was I to stand in the way of that calling?”

“And they bought that?” Emma scoffed with a raised brow.

“No… but once Neal declared before the village that it was indeed God’s will that Eloise oversee the children as village mother, they could hardly argue with God now could they?”

Emma pursed her lips together, fighting back a smile from the wink he gave her, and a fresh hope unfurled in Killian’s chest that Robin’s earlier assertions would prove true. That she would choose to stay after all.

“So, Eloise became the guardian over the children, and… wait. Weren’t you worried about what she might do to them? After what she’d done to you?”

Killian sobered as prickles of guilt crept up his spine. “Honestly? I think I was too caught up in my own desperation to get away from her that I… I was selfish,” he admitted. “But I don’t believe she’s abused any of those in her charge as she did me. She’s been too preoccupied with Alice’s illness, and trying to draw me back to her, to concern herself with any of them.”

“So, Alice does live with her full-time, then?” Emma inquired.

“She never used to,” Killian said wistfully. “Those first few months of our separation, Alice spent most of her time with me. Then, right before I had everything prepared to take her away from here, she started to get sick.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” Emma snarked. Her tone and expression relayed the thoughts that mirrored Killian’s own.

“Indeed,” Killian muttered darkly.

“You believe she’s making Alice sick, don’t you?”

“Aye. But proving it,” he sighed, “that is another matter entirely.”

“What are her symptoms?”

“Light sensitivity, weakness in her extremities, and fatigue are the more common ones,” he recounted. “When things get really bad, she becomes physically ill and sometimes has seizures… as you saw.”

“And this has been going on for the past seven years?”

Killian nodded mournfully. “You remember I said we had only one healer?”

“Yes?” Emma’s eyes widened in realization. “Eloise? She’s the healer?”

“So, you see my problem,” Killian stated. “Alice was moved to the children’s compound permanently on Eloise’s orders, so she could _look after her_.”

“To keep her sick, more likely,” Emma scorned.

“Aye. And to keep me on a leash.” Killian stood from the bed and began pacing the length of the room with a limping gait. Rage churned in his gut. He’d never voiced these speculations aloud before and having Swan agree with him, to hear the words come from her mouth that his daughter may very well have been systematically poisoned for years by the woman who was supposed to love and cherish her, made his blood boil and vision go red.

“What do you mean, keep you on a leash?”

“Men are not permitted in the children’s compound,” Killian explained. “An exception is made for me as Alice’s father, but only when permitted by Eloise. If I want to see Alice, I have to… play nice.”

Emma’s brows shot up, and the disgusted look she’d worn whilst Killian told her about his years in Eloise’s care was scrunched across her face. “You mean…”

“No,” he stated emphatically, halting in the center of the room. “Not since our separation.”

“What then?”

“My support on the elder council, for one,” Killian replied. “When Malcolm died, so did her strongest ally.”

“Looked to me like she, Neal, and Victoria made for cozy bedfellows.” Emma shuddered and Killian let out an amused huff. “That is _not_ how I meant that.”

“I know, Swan,” he assured her. “Eloise and Victoria are usually of one mind, but Neal can be something of a wild card. Eloise knows that she can get me to vote her way if need be. All she has to do is withhold Alice from me.”

“So, how do we get Alice out of there?”

Killian took a step towards the bed then grabbed onto the back of his desk chair for support, his knees suddenly feeling weak. “Does that mean?” Killian’s heart raced in his ears as he searched Emma’s determined face. “You’ll stay? You’ll stay, and help me?”

“I’ll stay and help _her_.” She stood and took a few steps to close the distance between them, narrowing her eyes at him. “But once the three of us are out of here, that’s it. We go our separate ways. Agreed?”

“Of course,” Killian agreed. “I haven’t divulged the location of your cabin to anyone in the community, so you’ll be safe to return there once we’re away from here, if that’s what you choose to do. Although...”

“Although, what?”

“I’m not entirely sure you’ll be safe there for too much longer.”

Emma worried her lip, chewing on his words as she did the tender flesh with her teeth. “Because of the Berserkers,” she reasoned.

“I know you may not believe this, but that was another reason as to why I wanted you to come with me to the village. I feared it was only a matter of time before the Berserkers found you. They seem to be branching out from the city. Probably looking for areas with greater resources after they’ve stripped all they could from there. ”

A pensive look passed over Emma’s face, then she looked up him with a fresh question burning in her eyes. “You said something about the mountains to Neal when we first arrived. About there not being many people left there, but you… you were never in the mountains, were you?”

“No,” he answered before returning to his seat on the edge of the bed. “I was tasked to go there and find others who might want to _join our flock,_ but I took the opportunity to do some scouting instead.”

“For what?” Emma asked, resuming her place beside him.

“A place to relocate with Alice.”

“But… you had no way of getting her out?”

“I had faith,” he said quietly, then turned his eyes to her. “A faith that… led me to you.” Her lips parted, a startled gasp passing over them as she held his gaze. “I was wrong to deceive you, Swan. And I’m not going to say it was God’s will for you to be here, even though I do think you are an answer to my prayers. I should have trusted God enough to be honest with you, to allow you to choose your own fate.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Emma said in response. “But I get what’s at stake for you here. And for Alice. So, I’m willing to do what I can.”

Killian choked back the emotional lump of relief that had formed in his throat. “Thank you, love.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she grumbled without protest to the endearment that slipped past his lips. “We still have to figure out how to get Alice out of here when Eloise has her on lock down 24/7. Hang on… if Eloise keeps her confined to her room, then how did she get out tonight?”

“I’ve no idea,” Killian confessed. He’d been pondering that himself. “To my knowledge, she’s never done that before.”

“Do you think she’d be able to do it again?” Emma asked with a conspiratorial glint in her eye.

“Only one way to find out,” Killian replied with a matching glint. “Why don’t we ask her tomorrow?”

~/~

The following day, Emma pounded out her frustrations on one of the many pieces of metal meant to serve as a repair to the weaponry of the village. Eloise had denied Killian’s request that they be able to visit Alice, citing the girl’s episode from the previous evening as having taken too much of a toll on her for visitors. All the while, the odious woman alluded to her dissatisfaction at the way Killian had treated her since returning to the village, forcing him to jump through her hoops in order to make amends. The sight of which made Emma’s stomach turn.

As did the falseness he exuded with just about everyone he encountered in the village, taking on a persona that was almost unrecognizable to her.

“Whatever that bit of metal did to offend you, remind me to not make the same mistake,” Robin quipped from behind her.

Billowing steam and the hiss of cooling metal filled the forge when Emma quenched the piece she’d been working on. Setting aside her work, she removed her gloves and eyewear and picked up her canteen.

“Come to check up on me?”

“Yes,” he replied matter-of-factly to her surly tone.

“Well, you needn’t bother. I’m fine.” She took a sip of much needed water, her eyes sliding over to where Killian and Eloise were sat talking with a few other community members, the woman’s hands finding excuses to touch him every chance they got.

“Mhmm,” Robin hummed with a raised brow, following her line of sight. “I can see that.”

Emma stoppered her canteen and turned her attention back to the forge, pulling on the bellows rope to stoke the flames even as she placed a dampener on the feeling of something unpleasant flaring to life in her gut.

“I just don’t understand how he can sit there and act like everything is fine,” she muttered under her breath when Robin stepped up beside her to offer his assistance. Her voice kept low lest anyone overheard. “Knowing what she did to him, to Alice, I can’t stand to watch as she continues to take advantage of him. And he just lets her.”

“What would you have him do?” Robin questioned. “Should he openly challenge another elder and risk being expelled from the community?”

“But he’s an elder too, isn’t he?”

“That doesn’t make us immune from judgement. Killian knows I’d support him, but Victoria will always side with Eloise. That leaves the final say up to Neal, and although he and Killian were quite close once, there is no guarantee our _prophet of God_ would discern Killian’s way as being _of the true path_.”

Emma shuddered, remembering what happened to those who _strayed_ from that path.

“Still,” she groused, “It’s hard to see him having to act this way.”

“I imagine it would be. You’ve had the rare opportunity of getting to know Killian for who he truly is. The man he is when he doesn’t have to guard his thoughts and words too closely.” Robin looked down on her with a soft smile. “I used to think I was the one who knew him best, but I’m pretty sure you’ve gotten to see more of the real him over the course of just a few days than I have in all these past years.”

Robin left her to mull over his words as she finished work on the repair she’d started earlier. She hadn’t considered that reality before now; the reality that she just might know Killian better than anyone. She couldn’t say why, but the idea of it filled her with a sense of satisfaction, and settled that part of her that still questioned whether or not she could trust him. Yes, he’d brought her here under false pretenses, and she still felt that there was something he was holding back, but perhaps, just perhaps, she hadn’t been wrong about him, after all.

“Pleasant thoughts, Sister Emma?”

Neal’s voice broke her from the reverie, forcing the delicate smile she hadn’t realized she was sporting into something tight and forced. “Pleasant enough, Mr. Cassidy.”

“I’m glad.” He stepped into the forge and closer into her personal space, leaving her feeling trapped with the flames at her back. “It’s good to see you’re adjusting to our ways so quickly.”

Emma could sense an underlying inquiry beneath his words, and felt it as his eyes combed over her. Her cheeks flared when she realized he might be trying to perceive evidence of what had transpired between her and Killian the previous evening. For all intents and purposes, as far as the village was concerned, it would have essentially been their wedding night.

“Yes,” she replied in a slightly strained tone. “Everyone has been so kind.”

He took another step forward and Emma could somehow sense Killian’s eyes on them. Briefly she flicked her gaze towards him, the tension he’d been subtly holding in his jaw and shoulders at being in Eloise’s presence had increased tenfold. His expression was thunderous, and reminded her of the look he’d worn when she was threatened by the two men in the woods.

“You’ll let me know if you have any trouble _adjusting_ , won’t you?”

Emma gave a sly shake of her head, pretending to force wisps of her hair from her face while really relaying to Killian that she didn’t need him to intervene, worried what he might do or say that could potentially result in catastrophic consequences.

“Of course, Mr. Cassidy.” Emma applied the overly courteous tone she’d heard Neal and Killian converse in the day before, and further forced her smile. “It’s kind of you to be concerned with my adjustment here in the village, but I assure you Killian has been quite thorough in his duties as my Sponsor, helping me… adjust.” A dark shadow passed over Neal’s stare, sending a small shudder down her spine. Knowing she’d have to tread a fine line of cordiality with the man, she appealed, “There is something you might be able to assist me with, though.”

“Name it,” he stated, leaning in as if expecting her to whisper it in his ear.

“Alice.”

“What?” Clearly, that was not what he’d been expecting or hoping she’d say.

“I’d like the opportunity to get to know Alice. I know she isn’t well, and that Eloise only has her best interests at heart, but,” she continued on sweetly. “Perhaps you could persuade her to allow me to visit? If not today, then maybe tomorrow?”

“I’ll talk with her,” Neal promised. “If I am able to get Eloise to agree to a visit, then perhaps you’d be willing to do a favor for me?”

Emma’s skinned crawled. The lecherous look she’d seen in his eyes the day before was back. Her pulse raced with panic, she hadn’t expected him to turn the tables on her that way.

“I… uh…”

“Ready for lunch, love?” The welcomed sound of Killian’s lilt washed over her in a wave of relief. Brushing past Neal, he came to stand next to her, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her into his side. “I hate to take you from the heat of the forge, seeing as how a cold front seems to be moving in, but you’ve been hard at work all morning. You should stop for sustenance.”

“Yes. You’re right,” she said looking up at him with a smile. Not the forced one she’d given Neal, but one similar to those he’d been able to pull from her during their trek to the village.

“Care to join us, brother?” Killian offered politely to Neal, his arm still wrapped possessively around her.

“Thank you, but I have another matter to tend to,” he declined, giving them a nod, and her a final perusal, before making his way to the square where Eloise still sat, watching them with narrowed eyes.

“You alright, Swan?” Killian murmured low as they strolled to the building that acted as the community dining hall.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “He just gives me the creeps, is all.”

“What did he say to you?”

“Nothing worth repeating.”

Killian stopped then pulled them between two buildings. Pressing her against the exterior wall of one of the structures, he then braced himself close to her with his arm propped against its surface just above her shoulder, keeping them out of sight from the milling crowd on their way to the midday meal.

“It’s not nothing, Swan,” he insisted, his voice not much above a whisper. “Everything Neal says is nuanced. It’s important you tell me so I can anticipate any traps he may try and set for us.”

“Traps?”

“He speaks for God, remember? His word is law within the village. All he has to do is say something is God’s Will, and he can change the status quo.”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say,” Emma said with furrowed brows.

“I’m sure it hasn’t escaped your notice that the female population within the village consists of little girls and crones. You’re the first equitable match for most of the men here, including Neal, that we’ve seen in years.”

“But, I’m… _You’re_ my Sponsor. We’re tied. Bound in the eyes of God, according to the village’s practices,” Emma argued.

“Aye, but there have been cases of transferred Sponsorship before,” he countered. “Instances where Sponsorship was deemed an unsuitable match for either party, and _all_ rights of Sponsorship transferred to another.” Emma swallowed thickly as his words sunk in, their meaning and potential probability of coming to fruition churned in her belly, making her lose her appetite. “I need to know _exactly_ what Neal said and how you responded in order to make sure he can’t twist your words into declaring me an unfit Sponsor.”

Emma relayed all that Neal had said to her. In spite of the trepidation she could see swirling in his forget-me-not eyes, his lips curled into an amused smirk when she told him how she’d expressed his _thorough_ efforts in helping her _adjust_ to life within the village. His jaw tightened when she mentioned the request that Neal speak to Eloise on her behalf, and his expectation of a returned favor.

“You said nothing to indicate agreement, though?” he clarified.

“No. You came and asked me about lunch before I could say anything.”

Killian leaned back off the wall and ran his hand over the scruff along his jaw, more beard than stubble after so many days of unkempt growth. Emma also noted the pallor of his skin and the dullness that had seeped into his usually bright eyes. “Alright,” he said, after a few moments of contemplation. “We’ll have to tread lightly in regards to the favor, but I don’t think there’s anything else he can use to his advantage, based on what you’ve told me. We’ll just have to try and be as convincing as we can to be a happily, newly tied couple.”

His last statement was given with a dose of apology lacing his words. It was something they had discussed before turning in the night before, selling the illusion to the villagers. They’d agreed upon holding hands and Killian having his arm around her whilst in public. A kiss on the cheek or one affectionately given at her temple was also permitted, but neither were comfortable with anything beyond that, not that such displays would be considered altogether appropriate for public viewing anyway.

Killian held out his hand with a tentative look of hopeful invitation. She laced her fingers with his and moved to exit the alleyway between the buildings when Killian swayed and pitched unsteadily forward.

“Whoa!” she exclaimed, catching him as he stumbled. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he waved her off. “Just lost my balance, is all. My foot still hurts like the dickens.”

“Are you sure?” Emma pressed, now feeling how clammy his hand felt in hers. “You don’t look too good.”

“I’ll be better once I’ve eaten,” he assured her while prompting her towards the dining hall with the pull of her hand.

“Okay, but maybe you should take it easy this afternoon,” she suggested. “Rest that foot.”

“I will, Swan. Right after I make sure we’ve plenty of firewood for tonight.” He flipped up the collar of his jacket with his free hand, attempting to ward off the chilled breeze. “I promise,” he appeased with a soft smile.

~/~

The additional firewood was indeed warranted that night. Emma was roused from sleep by the feeling of something being draped over top her, awareness of the deep chill in the air seeping into her bones.

“What are you doing?” she murmured sleepily at the Killian shaped silhouette standing next to the bed.

“You’re sh-shivering, love,” Killian chattered. “Thought you c-could use another bl-blanket.”

“There’s only one extra blanket, Killian,” she protested. “What about you?”

“J-Just added another log to the fire. I’ll be fine, S-Swan.”

Before he could turn and head back to the couch, Emma caught him by the wrist. “Killian, stop being an idiot and get under these blankets.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” she muffled from under the layers of warmth. “I think you might be coming down with something. We can’t afford for you to get sick, so get under the damn blankets.”

Without further protest, Killian padded his way to the other side of the bed and climbed beneath the covers. Even from the far edge of the bed he seemed determined to cling to, Emma could feel heat radiating off him. She sent up a quick prayer that a good night’s rest would help him fight off whatever was ailing him and slipped back into the bliss of sleep.

It was still dark outside when Emma’s sleep was disturbed for a second time. Unsure what it was that had awoken her, a pained moan answered that pondering as Killian lightly thrashed next to her.

“No,” he murmured. “No. You said you wouldn’t.”

Emma reached over to try and shake him awake; a flare of panic sparked in her chest when she felt how hot his skin was beneath her hand.

“Stop!” Killian cried out in his nightmare, jerking away from her touch. “Please! I want you to stop. Don’t do this, Eloise. Please!”

“Killian.” Emma shook his shoulder, trying to break him free of the torment he was reliving in his dreamscape. “Killian, wake up.”

He didn’t wake, but he did calm at the sound of her voice. “Swan,” he exhaled, his body relaxing momentarily before a chill rippled its way through his body, causing his teeth to chatter together.

This was more than a simple cold, Emma realized. A sinking dread took hold in the pit of her stomach, and she looked down his form towards his feet. Carefully, she unwrapped the bandages from his wound then held up the lantern she’d lit to inspect the injury. As she feared, infection had rooted itself in the gash that had yet to heal from the damage done by the bear trap, leaving it red and swollen with angry streaks spreading up his ankle and down towards his toes.

“Oh, God. Please, no,” she despaired softly.


	6. Chapter 6

Emma banged lightly on Robin’s door, not wishing to rouse anyone other the man whose help she desperately needed. Her eyes scanned the darkness around her as she waited for a reply, wondering if patrols were a part of the village’s _security_. With an open palm, she pounded on the door again, with an added whispered shout of Robin’s name.

The door swung open and a blurry eyed Margot greeted her. “Miss Emma? Is everything okay?”

“Yes… I mean, no. I need… can you wake your father for me?” Emma’s voice shook with the urgency that fluttered in her chest and swirled in her gut.

“He isn’t here. He’s on guard duty tonight. On the back wall.”

“Thanks, Margot.”

Emma didn’t wait for the girl’s reply before she took off towards the back wall that separated the village from the lake. With any luck, Robin would be able to tell her if what she needed grew in any of the community gardens, and which one she might find it in.

After realizing Killian’s foot had developed an infection, Emma had dug out the book of herbal remedies she’d brought with her, sending up prayers of thanksgiving that she’d thought to packed it at the last moment. She knew the recipes within were effective. Ingrid had used the volume to treat Graham, and his injuries had been far worse than Killian’s. That didn’t minimize the danger he was in though, or the worry that coursed through Emma as she arrived out of breath at the back gate.

“Robin?” she called out to the watchtower, looming overhead.

A familiar face glanced at her from over the rail, but it wasn’t Robin’s. It was that of the young man she’d seen conversing with Killian at the celebration while Robin had shown her the forge.

“What are you doing out at this time of night?” the young man asked with a demanding edge to his tone. “It’s past curfew.”

_Curfew. Right. Forgot about that,_ Emma thought as she remembered the village rules Killian had laid out for her after their conversation the night before.

“I know, I’m sorry, but I need to speak to Robin. It’s urg-”

“Emma?” Robin’s voice spoke from behind her, causing her to spin around. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Killian.” Emma hurried towards him and lowered her voice so she wouldn’t be overheard. “He’s got a fever. His foot, it’s… I think it’s infected, and I nee-”

“Come. We’ll wake Eloise.”

Robin began to lead her towards the children’s quarters, but Emma’s hand shot out to stop him. “No!”

“Emma, I know it isn’t ideal, but Eloise is our only healer. She’ll be able to help.”

“I don’t need her help,” Emma snapped with a bit more force than Robin deserved. “I know how to treat Killian’s wound and fever, I just need a few things. Do you know if the village has yarrow?”

Robin’s brow scrunched together. “I’m not sure I even know what that is, but if it’s used medicinally, then it’ll be in Eloise’s garden.” He paused, conflicting emotions swirling behind his eyes before he exhaled heavily. “It’s on the south side of the building. If you’re quiet, no one will know you’re there.” Before Emma could rush off, Robin grabbed onto her elbow. “How bad is he?”

The concern on Robin’s face and in his voice sent a swell of tears to her eyes. “The wound never closed. I’m going to have to cauterize it and hope that stops the infection from entering his bloodstream. If it hasn’t already.”

Robin sucked in an alarmed breath, and swallowed hard. “What’s the yarrow for?”

“To hopefully get the fever down, and to treat the burn,” Emma answered quietly, trying not to think about the agony she’d have to put him through in order to keep him from getting worse. She wasn’t even sure how she was going to manage it, she just knew it had to be done.

“How can I help?”

Emma’s eyes flicked up to Robin’s. A look of sheer determination rested on his face, the conflict within him seemingly resolved, and she silently thanked God again for providing in her hour of need.

“Go to the forge and grab one of my irons,” she instructed. “Don’t heat it there. I don’t want to wake the whole village. We’ll have to try and get it hot enough in the cabin stove. I’ll go collect the yarrow and meet you there.”

Robin nodded then made his way toward the back gate. “Gideon,” he called out to the young man in the watchtower, clearly observing the exchange she and Robin just had. “Miss Emma needs my help with Elder Killian. He’s fallen ill. Nick will be along soon and the two of you can finish watch together.”

The young man, Gideon, gave Robin a nod of understanding before he and Emma headed back towards the residences.

“The gate squeaks,” Robin informed her before they went their separate ways. “Don’t open it more than halfway and you should be fine.”

Emma thanked him and set off once more, the faint glow from her lantern lighting her way. Heeding his words, Emma opened the gate only as far as she needed to before slipping into the garden. The pungent scent of earth and herbs filled her sinuses, and she couldn’t help but be awed at the sight before her. Rows of carefully cultivated plants, rich with blooms and foliage, filled the beds, giving testimony of the skillful hands responsible for their thriving existence.

_If only those hands had ever shown such regard for the people in her life_ , Emma thought bitterly.

Silently, she crept through the rows until she spotted the distinct cluster of delicate white flowers. Emma pulled Killian’s small boot knife from the pouch she’d brought to collect the herbs, and cut off a sizable stalk of the yarrow. She spent a few more moments collecting other ingredients she’d need and was about to head back when a green glow caught her eye.

Emma pulled back the leafy foliage of a fern and gasped. Growing beneath was a mushroom, shimmering with a bioluminescence she’d only ever heard described to her by Graham. One side of its cap was weirdly shaped and upon closer inspection Emma realized it had been sliced with a sharp edge. Prickles of unease erupted along her arms and up the back of her neck, and something in her gut reacted with the wrongness Emma sensed about the fungus. Without hesitation she plucked it from the ground then searched the area to see if others were sprouting within the garden, but found none.

Emma wrapped the mushroom in a cloth and placed it in the pouch with the other items she’d collected. Perhaps there would be something in Ingrid’s book that could help identify its type. It would have to wait though. She had a more pressing matter to tend to, one she dreaded with each footfall back to cabin.

~/~

It was sweltering in the cabin. A far cry from the chill that had permeated it earlier when Emma had offered to share the bed after Killian had given her his blanket. Beads of sweat glistened over his brow even as he shivered from the fever raging within him.

Emma pulled the iron from the fires of the stove, the end glowing bright but not quite as hot as she’d hoped. It would have to do.

“Ready?” she asked Robin, who nodded and climbed onto the bed.

He propped Killian up then slid behind him, bracing him against his chest. “Mate,” he said, trying to rouse their incoherent patient. “Mate, I need you to bite down on this.”

Robin forced Killian’s mouth open and placed a leather belt between his teeth. Killian hadn’t really roused beyond the odd babbles and mutterings, but Emma and Robin both knew once the iron seared his skin he’d be fully cognizant of the pain. Robin wrapped his limbs tightly around Killian and Emma approached his foot, which was tied down, secured to the end of the bed to keep it in place while she cauterized the wound.

Emma knew that each delayed moment would cool the iron, drawing out the process and Killian’s agony. So, it was without hesitation that Emma pressed the heated metal into the reddened flesh of Killian’s injury and choked back bile and tears at Killian’s muffled scream. His leg jerked and his back arched, but Robin and the restraint kept him still enough. The chords in his neck were stretched taut and tears leaked out from the corners of his eyes. His chest heaved, and a pained, pleading sound reverberated from behind the straps clenched in his teeth.

Satisfied that the wound was now thoroughly sealed, Emma removed the iron. Killian went limp, slumping against Robin as he pulled in labored sobbing breaths. As much as she wanted to comfort him, she had to inspect and treat the burn first. After applying the yarrow poultice over the area, Emma lightly wrapped his foot to keep the healing pack in place. She then used the plant and other herbs, steeped in water that had been heating on the stove, to create a tea. With Robin’s help, they managed to get Killian to take several swallows before he passed out from a combination of pain and the still present fever.

“I added a few things to the tea that will act as a sedative,” she told Robin. “With luck, he’ll sleep until morning.”

“Luck, and perhaps a bit of prayer,” Robin suggested.

He set the desk chair next to the bed while Emma filled a basin with cool water Robin had gathered from the well earlier. She sat the basin on the bedside table next to some clean linens she’d found in the wardrobe then sat down in the chair.

“I don’t think I’ve stopped praying since I discovered the infection,” she said, dipping a cloth in the water and wringing out the excess before pressing it against Killian’s face, blotting his cheeks and forehead.

Robin knelt down beside her and placed a hand on her knee. “Then let me take up that burden, so you can focus on helping him get better.”

Tears pooled in Emma’s eyes, and she nodded her head. As Robin sent up his petitions, head bowed and eyes reverently closed, Emma never took her gaze off Killian. His breathing was shallow and labored, and expressions of pain periodically twitched across his face. Gently, Emma swept the wisps of hair that had fallen over his face off his forehead. He turned into her touch, his lashes still resting against the tops of his cheeks and lips barely parted as a content sigh passed over them. She ran her hand through his hair again, the soft, silken strands clinging to her fingers from their dampness which left them sticking up in odd angles in her wake.

It wasn’t until she heard the door close that she realized Robin had ended the prayer and excused himself. She had no idea how many hours she sat by Killian’s side, running cool cloths over the exposed skin of his head, neck, and chest. It wasn’t until she caught herself falling sideways out of the chair, half asleep, that she moved to the sofa to close her eyes for a bit. Before sleep fully claimed her, she sent one last prayer to the heavens, beseeching God for his healing over Killian and for strength in having to tell Alice about her ailing Papa the following day.

~/~

A rap of knocks brought Emma round the next morning, with wakefulness completely taking hold when the door to the cabin swung open. She sat up abruptly, and her body tensed as Neal waltzed in. His eyes were fixed on Killian’s sleeping form, but soon turned their attentions to her. A glint of something triumphant gleamed in his eye, causing Emma to pull the extra blanket she’d plucked from the bed up to her chin.

“Forgive my intrusion,” he said without a hint of apologetic remorse. “I was informed of Killian’s illness, and I felt compelled to come check up on him. How is he?”

“As well as can be expected,” she answered softly, not wishing to wake her patient. Her defenses couldn’t help but compare the man looming in the doorway to a snake poised to strike at any moment, keeping her still and alert. “He seems to have rested comfortably over night.”

“More comfortably than you, I imagine.” His eyes flitted over her, taking in the expanse of the sofa. “Have you been sleeping there since you arrived?”

Emma understood the meaning behind his question immediately, the inference that she and Killian might not be as intimate as they had tried to let on. The implications of such a realization, and the fact that Killian was too ill to object a proposed transfer of Sponsorship sent a trail of dread slithering down her back.

“Of course not,” she replied truthfully. “I left the bed last night because I wanted to make sure Killian got the rest he needed. I didn’t want to disturb him or jostle his injury with my presence.”

“But he shared the hospitality of his bed with you before he became ill? I’d hate to think he wasn’t caring for you as he should.”

“Yes. Killian has cared for me perfectly well.” _Not that it’s any of your damn business,_ she finished silently. “And now I’m doing the same for him.”

“Yes, I can see that. I’m glad he seems to be doing well,” Neal said with a distinct lack of gladness in his tone and expression.

“He isn’t out of the woods yet.” Emma looked over at Killian in time to see a shiver course over his body. The fever still waging war within him. “But if we can keep the fever down, he stands a good chance of recovering.”

“We?”

Emma’s eyes snapped back to Neal. Something in the inflection he applied to the word made her defenses shoot back up.

“Uh, Robin assisted me last night, and I figured he’d be by soon to check on-”

“Yes,” Neal interrupted. “Seems he came to your aid instead of remaining at his post, leaving my brother to see to the protection of the back wall on his own.”

“Your brother? Gideon is your brother?”

“Half brother, but yes.”

Emma thought back to the conversation she’d had with Killian. When she’d asked about the turning point, the first of many compromises that allowed the village to become so corrupt, and he’d told her of a girl named Belle that Neal’s father had sponsored.

_“She was brought to the village not long after my father disappeared. She and a few others, survivors of the pestilence, wishing to join the community for protection. I think she must have been about fifteen or sixteen? She was sponsored by the Cassidys, but a few months later it became apparent that something… untoward was happening.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“Belle began to show.”_

_“She was pregnant?”_

_“Aye. By Neal’s father. A man old enough to be her father.”_

Gideon must be the child Belle had given birth to.

“I understand why you went to Robin first,” Neal commented, pulling Emma from her thoughts. “His cabin is the closest to yours.” He walked towards the sofa and sat on the opposite end. Emma pulled her knees to her chest, creating as much space between them as possible. “But he has many responsibilities,” he continued. “To the village, to his children. I told you to come to _me_ should you have any troubles. I hope next time you find yourself in need, you’ll do just that.”

Despite the smile on his face the intent of his threat was quite clear. He placed a hand on her knee and it took every ounce of restraint she possessed to not flinch away from his touch.

“I only have your best interest at heart, Emma.”

“That’s very kind of you,” she managed to respond, choking back the disgust rising up from her churning stomach.

His meaty hand squeezed her knee in reply. A show of some assumed solidarity before his fingertips brushed lightly along the outside of her blanket covered calf as he removed his hand. Emma shuddered from the touch and the look of lust that swirled in his gaze, sending her pulse to race in panic. Surely he wouldn’t try anything with Killian, even in his incapacitated state, lying only a few feet away.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to find out.

Another series of knocks tapped against the door, and Emma called out a hurried invitation for whoever it was to enter. Relief washed over her when Margot appeared.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” the young girl said. “I didn’t mean to intrude-”

“You’re not,” Emma blurted out with a tight smile of her face. “Mr. Cassidy was just leaving.” She turned back to the man who was silently seething from the interruption. “I appreciate you coming by, but would hate to keep you from your duties.”

He offered his own insincere smile and rose from the sofa. “Of course. Remember what I said, Sister Emma. Don’t hesitate to call upon me if you need anything.”

Emma let go the breath she’d been holding as soon as he exited the cabin, and ran a shaky hand over her hair, waiting for her heart to calm.

“Is everything okay?” Margot asked with concern.

Although she suspected Margot was wise beyond her years, and probably knew full well what evil lurked beneath the surface of the village, it wasn’t a reality Emma wanted to burden her with unnecessarily. Taking in a deep breath, she threw the blanket off herself and made her way over to Margot.

“Everything’s fine,” she said with a soft smile. “I’m just worried for Killian.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Margot informed her. “I want to help, and I thought you might need a break.”

Emma would totally blame the spontaneous hug she gave the girl on her emotional exhaustion later. “Thank you,” she murmured before pulling back and wiping away the moisture that had unexpectedly appeared in the corner of her eyes.

“Don’t mention it,” Margot shrugged shyly. “I like Killian. He’s always been kind with me and Roland, probably because he doesn’t get much of a chance to spend time with Alice. Does she know?”

Margot’s face displayed a deep concern for Killian’s daughter, and Emma wondered if the two girls had ever had much of a chance to be friends.

“Not yet,” she replied, moving to Killian’s side. She didn’t like the pallor of his skin at all, and she could feel the increased heat coming off him without having to even touch him. “Why don’t you help me treat and redress his wound, and I’ll go visit Alice while you sit with him?”

Margot nodded in agreement and the two set to work. Emma was relieved to see that the red streaks had faded from Killian’s foot. The burn was still rather painful, based on the moans and whimpers coming from him as a new poultice was applied and secured with a fresh bandage. Emma added the extra blanket over his trembling form and worried her lip at the scorch of his skin beneath her palm when she placed it against his forehead.

“Might be a good idea to keep a cool compress on his forehead,” she told Margot. “I’ll get you some fresh water before I go.”

Emma collected the water and poured some in the basin then filled the kettle with the rest. Stoking the embers in the stove back to life she added, “When he wakes I need you to make him some tea. I’ve made a sachet of the herbs for you to steep. Don’t let them go for too long or it’ll make it too bitter for him to drink.”

With Margot’s assertions that she understood what was expected of her, Emma hurriedly got ready and left the cabin with one specific destination in mind. It was time to talk to Alice.

~/~

“Miss Emma!” Alice exclaimed, launching herself at Emma and wrapping her arms around her waist, just as she had when they’d first met. “I’m so happy you came to see me. Is Papa with you?” Alice looked behind Emma expectantly then up at her with curious eyes.

“No, Alice. I’m afraid he isn’t.”

Emma took the girl’s hand and led her back to the small bed that took up much of her room. Heavy curtains covered the windows, protecting Alice from sunlight which Emma knew was harmful to her because of her mysterious condition. Despite the dim lighting of the room, it had a cheeriness about it. Colorful drawings littered the walls, and an easel was set up in one corner with a rendering of a ship bathed in moonlight upon the vast ocean.

“Do you like it?” Alice asked when she noticed Emma studying the painting.

“It’s lovely. You’re quite the artist.”

“So is Papa,” Alice said with a hint of pride. “He taught me to draw and how to mix paints. He brought me a postcard with a picture of that ship on it, and I wanted to make it into a painting as a gift for him… and you.”

“A gift? For me?” Emma sat down on the bed next to Alice who beamed up at her.

“Of course. You and Papa are tied. That makes you family.”

Emma’s breath caught in her chest, and her insides twisted in guilt. Family. That was something she never thought she’d ever have again, which made her and Killian’s ruse all the more complicated. She’d hoped the village might provide her that sense of belonging before she learned the truth, and had been diligently suppressing any feelings of attachment so that it would be easier to cut all ties once they managed to escape. She’d never expected Alice to get attached, especially so quickly, but then… she hadn’t expected she would either. Emma couldn’t pretend there weren’t people she’d already come to care about, and she hated to think how hurt Alice would be when she learned the truth about her and Killian.

“Thank you, Alice,” Emma said in a strained voice. “I will treasure it.” Alice’s smile widened, exposing an adorably awkward toothy grin, and Emma noted some distinct differences in the girl’s appearance from their first meeting. “How are you feeling, Alice? You had us pretty worried.”

“Oh, I feel much better,” she assured brightly. “Mother said this latest episode wasn’t as bad as others I’ve had. She said that’s probably why I’ve bounced back so quickly, even if I endangered myself by leaving my room that night.”

Anger flared in Emma’s gut at the shrunken demeanor Alice wore as she spoke, clearly reliving whatever admonishment her _mother_ had doled out in response to Alice’s act of defiance. An act of defiance they might need her to repeat at some point in the near future.

“Alice,” Emma began on little more than a whisper. When she’d appeared at the children’s quarter’s door earlier, an older child had let her in and directed her to Alice’s room. They’d said Eloise had given permission for the visit, but they now had to go fetch her and let her know Emma was there. She expected the woman to appear at any moment. “How did you get out of your room? Your papa said you’ve never snuck out before, he didn’t know you knew how. He isn’t upset with you,” she added quickly, covering the girl’s hand with her own. “He and I are just… curious.”

“I didn’t sneak out,” Alice insisted, a little too quickly. “Mother left the doors unlocked.”

Even without the guilty expression flickering in those all too familiar blue eyes, Emma knew she wasn’t telling the truth. “I see,” Emma replied with a tone that conveyed she wasn’t buying Alice’s story. “Do you think your mother might _forget to lock the doors_ again sometime?”

“Maybe,” Alice responded slyly, her father’s influence dancing over her features. “Are we to have an adventure? Papa used to go on adventures at night before I got ill. Does he still? Have you gone on adventures together?”

“We haven’t yet,” Emma answered, a smile tugging at her lips from the excitement bubbling up in the girl before her. “But we hope to soon.” Her face pinched, and her eyes fell to where her hand still covered Alice’s. She took the girl’s hand into her own and brought her gaze back up. “Alice… there’s something I need to tell you. About your papa.”

“Did he get caught up with Elder business? Will he be here soon?”

Emma swallowed thickly. “No. He’s ill, I’m afraid.”

Alice’s eyes widened, and tears pooled in her eyes. “Ill? How?”

“Did Killian tell you how he injured his foot when we were traveling back to the village?”

“He said it was a bear trap.”

“That’s right. His foot got caught and it left several wounds. One of the wounds hasn’t healed properly, and last night he developed a fever.” Alice gasped and tears slipped over her lashes. Emma clasped her hand a little tighter. “Elder Robin and I were able to treat the wound, and he’s resting now. I won’t tell you not to worry, but I promise you… I will do _everything_ I can to help your papa get better.”

Alice pitched forward and Emma was ready for her embrace this time, wrapping her arms tightly around the young girl as she sniffled into her shoulder.

Rushed footfalls resonated down the hallway, preceding another child who appeared in Alice’s doorway. “Miss Emma? Margot is here. She says you’re to come quickly.”

Worry spiked in each of Emma’s nerve endings, but she kept her expression calm as Alice pulled back and looked up at her in panic.

“Is it Papa?”

“Yes, Alice. I have to go.” She reached up and took the girl’s face in her hands, staring into her fearful blues with a look of unwavering sincerity. “I promise to look after him, and I’ll send someone later to keep you updated.”

She moved to stand, but Alice stopped her. “Will you come back?”

“Of course, I will,” Emma answered tenderly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, if not sooner.”

“Okay.” Appeased, the girl let Emma go with one last request. “Please, tell Papa I’ll be praying for him, and… I love him.”

“I will.”

~/~

Emma arrived back at the cabin to find Robin pacing at the foot of the bed. The light tremble had intensified within Killian, causing him to shiver violently as his teeth chattered audibly throughout the room.

“He never woke up for me to give him the tea,” Margot explained. “He just kept getting hotter and hotter, so I had Roland go get Dad. As soon as he saw Killian, he told me to fetch you.”

“We have to get the fever down,” Emma muttered to herself, which seemed to echo Robin’s thoughts as he voiced his agreement. Before they could discuss options of how to accomplish that, Eloise’s voice grated from the doorway.

“Why was I not told of Killian’s illness?”

“I didn’t feel it necessary to bother you with it,” Emma answered curtly.

“Didn’t feel it necessary?” Eloise parroted back, an incensed note chording through her words. “I am the village healer. It is _always_ necessary to-”

“I didn’t want to take your focus from Alice,” Emma cut in with false cordiality. “Killian wouldn’t want you to neglect her needs for him. As her _mother_ , I’m sure you can understand his wishes.”

Eloise stiffened at the thinly veiled slight of Emma’s inflection, and narrowed her eyes in a glare. “Of course I can understand his desire to put Alice before himself, but what good has that done him? What good have _you_ done him?”

“She cauterized the wound,” Robin interjected. “And treated it with herbs. The injury is much improved, but the fever… we have to get the fever down. I thought you said the tea would help with that?”

“It will,” Emma said, ignoring Eloise’s continued glare. “I just need to increase the amount of yarrow. Last night it must have been too diluted to have the proper effect.”

“Where did you get yarrow?” Eloise questioned suspiciously.

“From your garden.”

“Who gave you the right to-”

“I did,” Robin vouched for her sharply. “If you wish to quarrel with someone, Eloise, then quarrel with me. Emma came to me for assistance, and I acted in what I felt was everyone’s best interest.”

Emma held her breath and kept silent, stunned that Robin would invite the woman’s wrath upon himself.

“The tea might well prove effective, but I think drastic action needs to take place to get his fever down first,” Robin continued on in urgency. “I propose we take him to the lake.”

“You can’t be serious?” Eloise scoffed.

“Full submersion in the cold water is the fastest way to-”

“Has it not occurred to you that the lake water might well be what got him in this condition in the first place? If he hadn’t insisted on Sponsoring this… woman, he never would have gone into the lake with a wound vulnerable to bacteria and infection.”

“Are you suggesting this is my fault?” Emma seethed, hands balling into fists at her sides.

“I’m saying, that matters of a community member’s health ought to be left in the hands of the village healer,” Eloise countered.

“Killian isn’t just another community member,” Robin argued. “He’s an Elder.”

“All the more reason to not risk him getting worse by reintroducing the lake water to his wound.”

“Killian would risk it,” Robin stated solemnly, addressing his next words to Emma. “His mother died from a blood infection. Her fever got out of control so quickly she had a seizure from it before anyone even realized how sick she was. She never regained consciousness after that.” Emma’s heart constricted painfully in her chest, from the pain of grief she felt for Killian losing his mother in such a way and the fear that she might lose him in exactly the same manner. “He’s your Sponsor, Emma.” Robin reminded them all. “The choice of how to proceed is ultimately yours to make.”

Emma looked over at Killian, his skin pale and clammy with fever, dark shadows cast beneath his eyes from the fitful rest he’d been plagued with from his illness. Her throat tightened and a familiar pang of fear gripped her chest; one she’d experienced when it had been a rifle threatening him, and her choice the only hope he had of coming out of the encounter unscathed. An encounter that had made her realize she didn’t want to lose him.

Emma shook the memory from her mind, and buried the feelings it threatened to dredge up. That wasn’t what this was about. She needed Killian in order to get out of this place, and Alice needed her papa. She’d promised Alice that she’d do everything she could to help Killian, and despite the risk, there would be no hope if they didn’t get the fever down.

“Let’s get him to the lake.”

~/~

Killian groaned, his body jostling uncomfortably over Robin’s shoulders. Consciousness had teased him several times with a haze that clouded his mind leaving him vaguely cognizant of voices buzzing in his ears. He was ill, that much he was aware of. An agonizing throb pounded in his foot, but it paled in comparison to the ache of his stiff joints, tightly compressed in a futile effort to stop his muscles from contracting with each degree of his rising temperature.

A blast of cold air tore another moan from him and his body convulsed, forcing Robin to tighten his hold of him. Where were they taking him? His mind must have briefly slipped back into unconsciousness, because he suddenly heard Robin give the order to open the back gate. Killian tried to lift his head from where it hung, his eyes stubbornly refusing to cooperate while his ears strained to tune into the muffled voices taunting the edge of his hearing.

Another shiver rolled over him then he was unexpectedly assaulted with the slicing sting of a thousand blades, only barely registering that he’d been set on his feet in the frigid lake water before he began lashing out with wild swings of his arms and screams of outrage.

“Killian! Mate, stop!”

Hands grasped for him, arms tried to subdue him, but he fought against them, stumbling aimlessly for the bank as his heart thundered in his chest. A rough shove sent him flailing backward and he lost his fragile balance entirely. His lungs seized and his entire body went rigid from the excruciating cold that crashed over him when he fell beneath the surface of the water, making him sink like a stone. Pain induced adrenaline snapped him back into full reality and panic began to set in when he was unable to combat the paralysis that had laid siege upon his extremities.

Arms enveloped him from behind, lifting him up to the surface where a painful breath involuntarily gasped back into his lungs. The surface of the water rippled and danced around him even though he remained petrified in his rescuer’s hold. When the chattering sound of his teeth made its way to his ears, he realized the disturbance of the water was from his own violent shaking.

“Killian, listen to me,” sweet words murmured against his cheek, alleviating the panic that screamed at him to fight. “I know it hurts, but we have to get your fever down. Please, Killian. Stop fighting, and let me help you.”

Her voice was calm, clear, and captivating like a siren luring him to his demise, seducing him to let down his guard and succumb to her embrace. He gave in willingly to her wishes, focusing his mind on the rhythm of her shallow breaths as her breasts swelled and contracted against his back. His head tilted back, settling into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and her arms tightened around him.

“E-Em-ma,” he stuttered, his strained voice as shaky as the rest of his body.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’ve got you. Stay with me, Killian. Stay with me.”

“Em-ma,” he exhaled once more, giving in to the welcomed oblivion beckoning him back.

“Killian?”

He felt her hand tap against his cheek, but the pull of the darkness was too great.

“Killian,” she said with greater urgency, a hint of fear catching in the back of her throat.

Why was she afraid? He wasn’t.

“Killian!”

What was there to fear? His Swan had him now.

“Killian, please! Killian… come back to me.” He heard her breathe on half a sob before surrendering to the quiet of infinite blackness.

~/~

Emma sat watching the flames in the stove dance as they devoured the newest sacrifice she’d fed to the fire. Their wood supply was running low, she’d have to chop more tomorrow before heading to the forge. Necessary duties, but ones she’d gladly shirk in favor of staying by Killian’s side if she had the choice.

Eloise wasn’t going to give her that choice.

After they’d gotten Killian’s fever down, Emma had to endure Eloise’s snarked accusations of how she’d nearly killed him with the shock of the water. They hadn’t though. Killian had never stopped breathing, his heart had continued to thrum beneath her palm splayed across his chest even after he’d gone totally limp in her arms. Both of those facts hadn’t kept her fear entirely at bay, though.

She didn’t think she’d taken a proper breath, or relaxed any part of herself until they had him out of the water and back in the cabin, dried, dressed, and deposited safely back in bed. How they managed to force the tea down him in his half-conscious state, she’d never know, but he’d swallowed every drop without protest when she’d murmured into his ear how important it was that he do so.

Robin had insisted she go eat after that. Already well past midday and her stomach audibly agreeing with the man, she couldn’t muster up an excuse to refuse. Margot had kindly offered to go tell Alice how her papa was doing, but Eloise had put her foot down. Alice was to receive no more visitors that day. Emma hated the gratitude she’d felt when Neal - who had arrived on the banks when Killian finally relaxed in her arms, and had stood watching when she emerged from the water, her clothes clinging to her as indecently as his gaze did - spoke up on her behalf, and insisted she be able to visit Alice tomorrow with an update of how Killian had fared overnight.

Night was just now beginning to fall, and Emma was ready to fall with it. Having already drawn fresh water from the well, and prepared the stove to warm the cabin for several more hours, her only remaining task was to prepare the next sachet of herbs for the tea Killian would need to drink first thing in the morning.

Emma dumped out the remaining ingredients still left in the pouch onto the desk, and furrowed her brow at the forgotten cloth wrapped mushroom that rolled out from its covering. Its luminosity was not nearly as vibrant against the flickering of the open stove and lantern light she was working by, but its eerie green glimmer was still visible along its shaved cap. Setting it aside, Emma set to work prepping the herbs then grabbed Ingrid’s book before settling herself on the bed next to a slumbering Killian. It was because the lantern hook on the wall beside the bed gave her better light to read by than when the lantern sat on the small sofa table, she told herself.

_Lying to yourself, you mean. Where are those carefully constructed walls you were building back up before a tragic backstory, endearing girl, and two pairs of matching blue eyes had you halting their fortification?_

Swatting the thought away in irritation, she turned the pages until she reached the section on fungi. A brief skim led her to the entry she’d hoped to find. Her grip on the edges of the book made her knuckles go white as she read the words, which became bathed in a wash of red from the rage they incited.

Below the crude illustration and brief visible description read:

_The Gothel Mushroom_

_/Got-hel/ meaning “Godmother” or “God held”_

_This bioluminescent fungus grows as a solitary stalk beneath ferns and other leafy foliage. A potent toxin with regenerative properties, its cap will regrow if cut, therefore it is prudent to remove the entire stalk from the earth. Symptoms of muscle weakness and sensitivity to daylight are evident if ingested, with vomiting and seizures occurring in extreme cases. The mushroom’s toxins metabolize quickly, making exposure rarely fatal. Symptoms subside within a matter of hours (or a few days with prolonged exposure) once the last bit of the fungus leaves the subject’s system._

Emma snapped the book closed and set it beside her on the bed. Her hands shook with fury, her breaths a series of enraged pants as she stared at the mushroom lying innocuously atop Killian’s desk. All these years, how many times had it healed itself from the systematic slices Eloise had taken from its caps? How often had the woman dosed her _own_ child with its poisonous effects then stood idly by as she watched Alice become debilitated to the point of violent convulsions? When had she last cut a section off the toadstool, allowing it to act as _Godmother_ while its toxins baptised the child in a wash of solitude and imprisonment?

It didn’t matter.

“What matters,” Emma said aloud to Killian’s sleeping form. “Is that it will never hurt your starfish again.”

Getting up from the bed, Emma plucked the Gothel mushroom from the desk and tossed it into the stove fire. It sizzled and popped with sparks of green before flaring up in a flash of all consuming flames, quickly rendering it to ash. Emma closed the feed door and sucked in a calming breath before returning to bed. The lingering ire left simmering in her gut had her tossing and turning for far too long, and she was about to move to the sofa out of concern she’d disturb Killian when he rolled onto his side and wrapped his arm around her.

Thoroughly exhausted in body and spirit, Emma didn’t hesitate to turn into the comfort of his embrace. Though still quite warm, she found the gentle heat radiating off his skin as well as the even keel of his restful breaths soothing, and it was only a matter of minutes before she felt the welcomed pull of sleep. _Tomorrow_ , she told herself, snuggling deeper into Killian’s arms, _the walls go back up tomorrow._


	7. Chapter 7

Soft beams of sunlight streamed in through the gap in the curtains, attesting to the lateness of the hour when Killian pried his eyes open. Unlike the day before, he was alone in the cabin. And unlike the day before, he felt strong enough to sit up and maybe leave the confines of the bed.

His fever had fully broken early the previous morning. Bits and pieces of the tale of his illness had been given by Emma, Robin, and young Margot as they tended to him throughout the day, but he’d barely had the strength to grasp all of their words. He had vague memories of feeling poorly, of excruciating pain in his foot, and chills wracking his body. Flashes of being carried to the lake and the stinging pain of a thousand knives as he’d been submerged in the water mingled with the shadowy sensations of Swan’s body pressed against his and the flutter that had erupted in his heart when he awoke with her in his arms.

Arms that suddenly felt as empty as his cabin.

Pulling back the blankets revealed his flannel clad legs with fresh bandages wrapped around his injured foot. He gingerly tested its mobility, pointing and flexing the joints and muscles. Though tender, it was not nearly as sore as it had been. Standing on wobbly legs, his hand shot out to steady himself against the wall, fatigue just about overwhelming him as he willed his body to move in measured limps towards the door.

He shivered slightly against the cool breeze that swept into the cabin. Bracing himself against the doorframe, his eyes sought out the forge where he expected Swan to be laboring away. His hand clenched against the molding as he recalled her exchange with Eloise the day before, his former sponsor admonishing Emma for shirking her duties to the village when there were others who could care for him. He’d succumbed to the effects of that bloody awful tea she kept insisting he drink while they’d argued, but he was glad to see, as he watched her work about the forge, she had sense enough to heed the trouble crossing Eloise could bring down upon her. 

Eloise’s absence did give him pause, though. Surely, she would have insisted on caring for him, but other than that heated interaction, he had no further memory of her being at his side. How had they managed to keep her at bay? Had Emma indebted herself further with Neal? Requesting his assistance in exchange for a favor down the road?

Killian’s gut twisted painfully at the prospect, but it was soon replaced by a sudden swell of shocked disbelief as a golden haired girl began running toward him.

“Papa! You’re awake!”

“Alice?” Killian’s knees gave out just as his little Starfish reached him, allowing her to throw her arms around his neck. “Alice,” he choked out on a half sob. “How… you’re out. During the day. H-how is this possible?”

“They’re saying it’s a miracle, Papa,” Alice exclaimed, her words muffled against his neck as neither were willing to pull away from the other. “You and me getting better. God sent us a miracle.”

A shadow blanketed them, causing his eyes to snap up. Emma stood over them, her bottom lip secured between her teeth, attempting to suppress the happiness that shimmered in her eyes. For all the questions barraging his mind in that moment, her expression offered him an answer to his most pressing question. He may not know how his child had made such a miraculous recovery, but he did know that it had everything to do with the woman he felt certain was a literal Godsend.

“That He did, Starfish,” Killian murmured, staring into the veridian gaze of their guardian angel with an intense affirmation burning within his irises. “That He did.”

Emma’s breath visibly caught in her chest, and she ducked her head briefly to school her features and regain some composure. Clearing her throat, she said, “Alice, why don’t you see about getting a tray of food for your Papa while I check his dressing?”

Alice pulled back, but didn’t immediately move from his embrace. Cupping her face with one hand, he toyed with her long pigtail with the other. “It’s alright, Starfish. Do as Miss Emma asks and you can regale me with the tale of your healing while I eat, yeah?”

Alice nodded at them both before turning and heading off towards the dining hall, pausing briefly to say something to Margot as she passed. Killian knelt there in awe of seeing his daughter scamper about in the sunlight. Her usually weak limbs were steady and strong, the pallor of her skin had been exchanged for a healthy vibrancy that shone from her face and twinkled in her Jones blue eyes. Killian pressed his fist against his lips and his head fell forward. The pressure in his chest increased to a welcomed ache as hot tears of rejoicing streamed down his face.

Emma’s hand rested on his shoulder and he felt her crouch down next to him. “Come on,” she breathed in his ear while tucking an arm around him. “Let’s get you up and back inside.”

Killian allowed Emma to get him to his feet and lead him back into the cabin. “Not the bed,” he said gruffly when she began to steer him that way. “Please. I’ve had enough convalescing.”

She gave him a slightly amused and understanding look before turning him towards the sofa, easing him down onto the cushions before lifting his leg and resting it in her lap as she sat upon the coffee table.

“I know you have questions,” she began as she unwrapped his bandages. “But some of them will have to wait to be answered. Alice will be back any minute, and there is much she doesn’t know.” 

Killian nodded, holding back a wince when her fingers gently pressed against the tender skin surrounding his injury. 

“This is looking much better.” Her eyes flicked up to his, a sternness penetrating her gaze as she advised, “If I can manage to keep you off your feet and resting for the rest of today and tomorrow, you’ll likely be good as new by the Celebration.”

The Celebration. A time when the village came together to give thanks for all the blessings God had provided, much like the American Thanksgiving society had observed in the days before the pestilence. A feast would be shared, music would be played, and folks would enjoy an evening of merriment before setting about the business of preparing for winter. He’d forgotten all about the Celebration.

“Alice is very excited at the prospect of dancing with her Papa during it, and I know you won’t want to disappoint her.”

“No,” he replied earnestly. “No, I most certainly do not.”

“Good.” Emma smiled then reached over to collect fresh bandages and herbs from the tray next to her, redressing his wound with a light touch that made his skin come alive.

“Perhaps, I could have the honor of a dance with you as well?” he inquired casually, even as his heart began to race in anticipation of her reaction.

Furrowed brows and a bemused expression was not the response he’d been hoping for.

“I figured it would be expected,” she answered with a shrug of her shoulders. “Though I have to warn you, other than playing around with Anna and Elsa when we were kids, I’ve never actually danced with anyone before.” A beguiling blush tinted her cheeks as she set her attention back to wrapping his foot. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m a tad rusty myself.” Having finished securing the bandage, Emma propped his foot onto a pillow but remained seated across from him. “But I’d be honored to have the first dance. After all… you never forget your first.”

His wink drew a quiet giggle from her and he could practically see the tension and worry she had to have been harboring the past few days release from her shoulders. 

“Here you are, Papa,” Alice announced, carrying a tray of food into the cabin and pulling his and Emma’s attention.

“Here, let me help you,” Emma offered, taking the tray from Alice’s hands and transferring it to Killian’s lap. “Why don’t you have a seat and keep your Papa company while he eats. I have things to finish at the forge.” She turned her gaze to Killian and gave him a look of particular significance. “I’ll be back in a bit and we’ll catch up on things you’ve missed while you were ill.”

“That sounds grand, love. Thank you.”

Killian watched Emma exit the cabin then turned his focus towards Alice. A fresh swell of gratitude bubbled up within him, though it was cautioned with a dose of pragmatism. Even though he firmly believed God had orchestrated the events that had led to Alice’s recovery, he knew it hadn’t been the sort of miracle most of the villagers would surely believe it to be. He’d long suspected that her illness had been manufactured by Eloise as a means to control and exploit him, but that was a theory he’d never wanted to burden his child with. Before he prompted his starfish to begin her tale, he fortified himself by clinging to that buoy of gratefulness, lest he drag them both under with his rage.

“My darling girl,” Killian sighed with a tight smile, his lips stretched taut as they fought to hold back the emotion he felt burning in the back of his throat. “Tell me everything, Starfish. I want to hear all about this miracle.”

Killian sipped on the broth Alice had brought him, and nibbled on the crusty bread as he listened intently. Her exuberance while delighting him with the story had the corners of his mouth twitching up more than once. She’d always been a ball of energy. Even during the harshest and most debilitating times of suffering, she possessed a fire and zeal that made it impossible for her spirit to wane. A spirit that had her prattling on in a way he’d heard other parents complain about, but he found it to be nothing short of wondrous.

“I don’t think I’d even realized how much stronger I’d been feeling until Miss Emma hinted at the idea that you might be willing to take me on a nighttime adventure,” Alice stated. “But when she came back yesterday to tell me how you were doing, I knew something was different. It wasn’t until Miss Emma tripped and knocked down my curtain that I realized how different.”

“Emma knocked down your curtain?”

“It was an accident,” Alice rushed to explain, perhaps fearing the woman she’d clearly become just as taken with as he might find herself in trouble within his estimation. “It was my fault, really. Mother had told me earlier to pick Mr. Rabbit up off the floor, but I forgot and-”

“Alice, love,” Killian cut her off. He moved the finished tray off his lap and opened his arms to her. Once she was nestled in his embrace he gently stroked her hair, just as he used to when she was a much younger child. “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault. Or Emma’s. Accidents happen,” he soothed. The white lie slipped easily off his tongue. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that the action of pulling down the curtain had been intentional. “What happened after the curtain came down?”

“I screamed,” she admitted sheepishly. “I was expecting the sunlight to hurt like is always does, but… it didn’t.”

Killian closed his eyes and tried to imagine that moment. His daughter’s expression morphing from fear to confusion to elation. He envied Emma that moment.

“My scream brought some of the villagers rushing to see what was wrong,” she continued. “Miss Emma urged me to go outside to see if I could withstand the full impact of the rays, and when the villagers saw that I was unaffected, they all began to kneel down and praise God.”

Killian let out an amused huff. Getting the villagers to declare Alice’s healing a miracle of God was a sure fire way to make certain whatever Eloise had done to make her sick in the first place couldn’t be easily repeated without causing a crisis of faith within the community. Killian sat in awe of the cunning Emma displayed in arranging such a triumph. The only thing that would make it truly sanctified in the eyes of the community would be-

“Elder Robin called for Elder Neal, and they both prayed over me. At first, mother looked angry, but then she and Elder Victoria joined them. Mother insisted that I rest for the remainder of the day, but this morning, when Margot came by to see if I wanted to help her and some of the other girls with the decorations for the Celebration, she let me go.”

“And how are you feeling now?”

“Wonderful,” Alice elated. “I’ve had so much fun with Margot and the others. I’m trying to heed mother’s advice to take it slow, but there’s so much I want to see and do, I can’t help but be excited.”

“I’m excited for you, Starfish.” Killian squeezed her tighter and rested his cheek on the crown of her head. 

“Papa?” Alice muffled against his side. “I know mother has looked after me ever since I got sick, but…”

Tension rolled over him. Did his little love somehow suspect Eloise of the same treachery he did? Was she about to ask him if he thought her mother capable of such a wicked act? What would he say to her if she did?

“Do you think it’s okay if I include Miss Emma in my prayers of thanks to God? It’s just… I can’t help but feel as though she might have had something to do with it.” Alice pulled back and looked up into her papa’s face with furrowed brows that reminded Killian of Liam. “I know that sounds weird.”

“Not at all, love,” Killian countered. “I see nothing wrong with including Emma in your prayers.” 

Alice beamed up at him then snuggled back into his side. They sat there for an untold amount of time, simply enjoying the company of the other before something began to nag in the back of Killian’s mind.

“Alice? Do you know what your mother is up to? I’m surprised I haven’t seen her yet today.”

“I think she’s with Elder Victoria,” Alice replied. “Ivy and Ana said she came by their cabin the day before yesterday, and they’ve been meeting on and off ever since.”

Dread slithered down Killian’s back. Nothing good could possibly come from such meetings. He expected some sort of retribution to be forthcoming, and would have to stay vigilant of her schemes until he was well enough for them to make their escape. Which, thanks to Emma, could happen as soon as he was fully healed.

A soft knock echoed from the open doorway, and both Alice and Killian turned to see Margot hovering at the threshold.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said with a tint of pink on her cheeks. “Ivy, Ana, and I are going down to the lake to do some of the washing. I thought Alice might like to come along.”

Alice met his eyes, and Killian could see the torn expression on his starfish’s face. “You go on, love. Have fun with your friends,” he encouraged. “I have been ordered to rest. Although…” Killian turned his attention back to Margot and asked, “Is your father around?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you have him come help me with something?”

He wouldn’t mind a bit of washing up either.

~/~

Emma slipped her boots off outside of the door and slowly turned the handle, hoping to enter the cabin as quietly as possible in case Killian was resting. 

She really hoped he was resting.

She hadn’t been expecting him to be _resting_ like that.

Reclined in a small copper tub, wafts of steam rising up from the water he was partially submerged in, Killian sighed, completely oblivious to her presence. His bandaged foot dangled from where his leg was draped over the side, the angle of the extremity concealing a certain appendage from her view. The same appendage she’d woken up to the last two mornings pressed against her backside with Killian’s arms wrapped around her middle. Needless to say, it had been difficult finding the motivation to leave bed the past two mornings.

“Swan?”

Heat rushed to her cheeks and she spun around, putting her back to him, hoping he wasn’t aware of just how long she’d been standing there staring at him. “I’m so sorry. I thought you might be resting and I didn’t want to disturb y-”

“Swan, close the door,” he prompted softly, the sound of displaced water echoing through the cabin. “Or is it your intention to have me once again catch my death so you can continue to nurse me?”

Emma suppressed an amused huff and closed the door, averting her eyes while he repositioned himself in the tub to a more modest pose. “I can come back later if you want-”

“No,” Killian rushed in reply causing Emma’s eyes to snap up to his. “Please, stay. I’d really like to hear about Alice. Just give me a second to get out and dressed. Please?”

Wetting her lips, she took a calming breath before nodding then turned around again to afford him some privacy as he got out of the tub. She almost whirled back around when a pained grunt reached her over the sloshing sounds of the water. 

“Do you… do you need some help?”

“Um… aye. If you… if you don’t mind.”

Peaking over her shoulder, she was relieved to see he’d wrapped a towel around his waist upon standing. The end was getting soaked where it hung in the water, but at least he was somewhat covered. 

“I can’t keep my balance well enough to get my other leg over the side since I can’t put my full weight on my injured foot yet,” he explained, one hand holding the ends of the towel with the other braced against the nearby bookcase, keeping him steady.

She tried to block out the feel of his warm skin, slippery beneath her touch from the droplets clinging to him as she wrapped an arm around him. Droplets that soaked into her shirt when she pressed into his side and cooled the heated flesh beneath when his damp hand clutched the fabric at her shoulder. Supporting his weight so he could safely step out of the tub without causing further injury to himself, Emma’s heart began to pound when the flap of the towel flipped up, involuntarily drawing her gaze to the exposed skin beneath when he hiked his leg up and over the edge. 

The incident had not exposed _him_ , so much as it revealed a large bruise on the inner part of his thigh. Emma’s brows pinched together as she tried to remember how he might have come by the abrasion. “Where did you get that?”

“What?”

“That bruise on your leg? Did you run into something? It looks pretty bad.”

“It’s nothing,” he waved off, limping out of her supportive embrace and pulling the towel more tightly around him.

“Are you sure? I could probably make something to help it heal faster,” she offered as he swung open the door to the wardrobe, acting as a barrier between them as he dressed. “A bruise that severe has to be tender. Especially there.” She felt her cheeks flame up once more. Whether from the topic or the flash of bare flesh from his ass when he stepped in and pulled up his boxers, she couldn’t really say.

“So long as it doesn’t require me to drink that foul tea,” he groused good naturedly, shooting her a quick smile past the door before returning to his task.

“Hey! That tea was very effective in getting you well, I’ll have you know.”

“And I am grateful for it.” Now dressed in a fresh pair of flannel pants and tee shirt, he shut the wardrobe doors and hobbled towards the couch. Flopping down he patted the seat next to him, inviting her to join him. “Given what I overheard yesterday when Eloise came by, I assume you did not seek out her assistance when I fell ill. So, how did you know about the tea and how to treat my wound?”

Emma plucked Ingrid’s book off the shelf of the bookcase and sat down next to Killian. “With this. Ingrid used it quite a bit over the years, treating minor illnesses and injuries my sisters and I would fall victim to.” She skimmed her fingers over the lettering on the cover with a light, reverent touch. “It was instrumental in saving Graham’s life, too. I remembered the tea from when she nursed him back to health, and was fortunate to find the ingredients here in the village.” Her eyes slowly swept up from the book to Killian’s intent blues and she pulled her lip between her teeth before adding, “In Eloise’s garden.”

“You went into her garden? Without her permission?” he asked incredulously.

“Robin gave me permission as an elder, and stood by me when she confronted me about it the next day. I told her that I went there seeking yarrow. I didn’t tell either of them that I’d found something else while I was.” Before he could inquire what she meant, she flipped open to the fungus section in the book and handed him the heavy tome. “It was a mushroom,” she stated while he skimmed the words describing the Gothel Mushroom. 

His knuckles turned white from where he gripped the edge of the book and his jaw tightened. An audible draw of breath swept into his chest through flared nostrils, making his entire body go rigid before he remembered to exhale.

“I didn’t know what it was at first,” she continued on. “I caught sight of it out of the corner of my eye, glowing underneath a fern. Something about it just… I pulled it and took it with me. It wasn’t until later that I found that passage, and I-” she paused and worried her lip, afraid that the anger she could feel rolling off of him would be turned on her when she admitted what she’d done. “I got so angry that I… I tossed it in the fire.”

Those last few words were said on nothing more than a guilty exhale, but Emma knew he’d heard her from the feel of his gaze now settling on her.

“It was stupid, and impulsive, and I’m so sorry, I just-”

“Emma.” He closed the book and set it on the coffee table before taking her hand. “Did you think I would be angry with you about that?”

When she looked up into his eyes, what she saw there nearly stole her breath. She had never seen them so clear, so intensely blue, so full of…

She shook her head and tore her eyes from his. “But the proof,” she argued. “Without the mushroom, there’s no proof of what she’s done.”

“Aye, that may be,” he replied, tucking his fingers beneath her chin and prompting her to meet his eyes once more. “But it doesn’t change the fact that because of you, she can _never_ harm Alice that way again.” His thumb stroked the line of her jaw, sending a trembling cascade down her spine. “I will never be able to repay you for what you’ve done, Emma. You saved us. Me and Alice. And now we can finally be free of this place. Because of you.” 

Emma’s breath caught and her lips parted. Killian’s hand tightened against hers as his thumb came to rest at the corner of her mouth. The air had become thick and charged around them, a heavy anticipation permeating the atmosphere and seeping into Emma’s skin, leaving a wake of skittering tingles in her flesh. Killian’s eyes bounced between hers before settling on her lips and the captive breath in her lungs released in a stuttered exhale of expectation.

It wasn’t until the knock sounded at the door that Emma was aware of just how closely they’d leaned into one another. Relief and disappointment swept over her as she jerked back, Killian’s hand falling away from her face as he called out a disgruntled sounding invitation to enter. 

Robin appeared, a look of apology on his face when his eyes landed on their still joined hands. “I thought you might need help emptying and removing the tub,” he said, leaning against the doorframe and not fully entering the cabin. “Assuming you’re done with it?”

Emma opened her mouth to respond, but Killian’s words were faster.

“Actually, I thought Emma might want use of it first.” He offered her a shy smile, scratching behind his ear as he continued. “You’ve been hard at work taking care of me while also performing your duties for the village. Seems to me you could use a relaxing soak in a nice, hot bath.”

“It would give Killian and I an opportunity to discuss a few things at my place while you take advantage of the tub,” Robin offered. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t overdo it while you get some much needed time to yourself.”

Emma pursed her lips together and side-eyed both men. “Why do I feel like the two of you are conspiring against me?”

“Well,” Robin looked over his shoulder then moved into the cabin, closing the door behind him, “there is something I haven’t told either of you yet.”

Killian’s brows were raised, clearly expressing he had no idea what his friend was hedging at. “What’s that, mate?”

“I’ve decided that… I’m coming with you.”

“What?”

“When you leave,” he whispered. “Margot, Roland, and I are coming with you.” 

Killian’s face lit up, and as soon as his intent became apparent, Emma assisted him off the couch so he could embrace his friend. “I was hoping you’d agree to come with us,” Killian muffled against Robin’s shoulder. “We’ll need your help to get what we need out of the armory, and now that Alice is well there’s nothing stopping us from leaving right away apart from my injury.”

“And apart from Eloise’s suspicions that leaving is exactly what you have planned,” Robin cautioned. “Suspicions I’m sure she’s shared with Victoria and Neal by now.”

“Aye.” Killian swept a hand through his still damp hair before running it down his face, the tension Emma had noted in his shoulders before his soothing bath knitted itself within his muscles as he considered Robin’s words. “I shudder to think what that foul woman might be planning in retaliation, but we’ll have to remain vigilant against whatever scheme they’re concocting. Especially you, Swan.”

Emma swallowed heavily at the thought. She’d already gone toe-to-toe with Eloise a few times, and her ploy to get Neal and the villagers to acknowledge Alice’s healing as a miracle had worked better than she’d planned, but she knew that a reckoning was coming. Alice had told her that her mother had spent hours in the garden since Emma had confessed to being there, and Eloise had sent thinly veiled comments Emma’s way about robbing her garden of more than just yarrow when she’d come by the day before. Like both men, she felt it was just a matter of time before Eloise and the other elders would come to suspect them of planning an escape. 

If they didn’t already.

A heavy hand came to rest on her shoulder and she flicked her gaze up to Killian’s. “Try not to think on it too much right now, love,” Killian tried to reassure her. “Robin and I will get you more water to heat up the bath, and then we’ll try and come up with a plan whilst you relax.”

“But I can help,” Emma protested, even if she did long to have a soothing soak in the tub.

“Aye, and once we’ve come up with a few ideas, the three of us will reconvene.”

Killian squeezed her shoulder after she gave a consenting nod and followed Robin out the door. Emma knew it wasn’t either of their intentions to sideline her. They knew more about the village and its logistics than she did, so it wasn’t like she’d be of much help in the early stages of planning anyway. Any final trepidations at not being present while Killian and Robin hashed out the details melted away when Emma slipped into the hot bath. So what if she daydreamed that it was Killian’s firm chest she was reclining against rather than the hard metal of the copper tub? 

~/~

“So you’re planning to broach the idea of Alice staying a few nights with us?” Emma inquired while she and Killian conversed later, straightening up the cabin now that the tub had been removed so they could settle in for bed.

“Aye. During the elder meeting tomorrow.”

“And the idea is to…”

“Misdirect them,” Killian responded. “If they do suspect us of planning an escape, they’ll assume we’d leave on a night Alice is staying with us. The hope is to make them hypervigilant on those nights and less attentive on nights she’s with Eloise. Since we know Alice is capable of sneaking out of her room within the children’s quarter, we can arrange our escape on one of those nights instead.”

“And you think Eloise is just going to agree to Alice spending the night with us? Without a fight?”

“Good heavens, no,” Killian scoffed. “But now she’s been _healed,_ a miracle sanctified by Saint Neal himself, it isn’t really a fight she can win.” Killian paused and shifted his stance, stabilizing himself against his desk. 

The rest was doing him good. Even in the few short hours since she’d assisted him out of the tub, he was much more sure footed than he had been. With any luck he’d be strong enough to dance on it at the Celebration. If that went well, then there was no reason to think he couldn’t endure the miles they’d have to travel in haste once the opportunity to escape came.

Turning down the covers on the bed, Emma noticed Killian reach up and scratched behind his ear before uttering, “Swan, now that I’m better, I’m happy to take the couch again. I appreciate you letting me sleep in the bed with you while I was-”

“You can’t,” Emma interrupted, forcing Killian’s brows to shoot up into his hairline. Her heart pounded within her chest and she felt her cheeks flame from the overly zealous tone her words had come out in. “I mean… um. Neal caught me sleeping on the couch the other morning.” The muscle in Killian’s jaw began to flicker and his eyes narrowed at the implication that the Head Elder had entered their cabin without invitation. “I told him it was only so I wouldn’t disturb you, but he didn’t seem convinced with that excuse. He sort of implied an assumption that we weren’t…” Her voice trailed off. She could tell from the look on Killian’s face that he’d gotten the gist of their exchange.

“I see.”

“I think it would be best if we just keep sharing the bed,” she suggested. “I wouldn’t put it past him to come snooping again now that he knows you’re better.”

“Nor would I,” Killian agreed.

It was an awkward few minutes that followed, both of them finishing their normal routines before tentatively climbing into bed next to each other. Emma felt silly for her racing heart and sweating palms. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t slept next to the man before. In fact, she’d spent more nights with him at her side than she had alone since he’d first appeared in her life. Nights that usually found them gravitating towards one another in their sleep, causing her to wake up in his arms. A very pleasant way to wake up, if she were being honest with herself.

That wall was totally failing her.

“Goodnight, love,” Killian murmured after turning out the lamp and plunging the cabin into darkness, with only a few thin streams of moonlight filtering in through the window, illuminating his profile.

“Goodnight, Killian,” she replied, snuggling further beneath the blanket… and maybe a bit closer to him.

~/~

“I have no objection with Alice staying a few nights each week with you and Emma,” Eloise declared magnanimously.

Killian’s jaw went slack and his head cocked sideways. “Really?”

“Of course not,” she answered with a simpering smile. “In fact, why don’t I send her over this evening so she can stay with you tonight?”

Robin caught his eye with his own incredulous look before Killian stammered out, “F-fine. Good. I’m glad that’s… glad that’s settled then.”

Killian didn’t believe for a moment that Eloise had agreed to his petition so easily out of the goodness of her heart. What was the witch up to now?

“Great,” Neal commented, pulling the elders’ focus back to the agenda of the meeting and recapping what they’d already discussed. “Everything is all set for tomorrow night’s celebration, Robin will get with Nick about setting up one more hunt so we can address the meat stores before winter, and Alice’s time will now be spent equally with both her parents. Is there anything else anyone wishes to bring up for consideration before we adjourn the meeting?”

“Yes,” Victoria spoke up. “I would like this council to consider lowering the sponsorship age.”

“Lowering the age?” Robin protested as cold tendrils of dread slithered their way into the pit of Killian’s stomach. “To what?”

“Thirteen,” Victoria answered with a flippant shrug of her shoulders.

“What?!”

“You can’t be serious?” Killian outraged in tandem with Robin while throwing an accusatory look at Eloise. 

“If we don’t do something to provide companionship for the number of eligible young men within the village, they will wish to go out and find it just as you did,” Victoria stated at Killian. “We need our men here, not traipsing about the countryside, putting themselves in danger. Lowering the age to thirteen would give us a number of young women for them to choose from.”

“Two of them being your own,” Robin pointed out in shocked disbelief.

“Aye, as well as yours and mine,” Killian reminded him before being corrected with a pointed _Ours_ from Eloise.

“Exactly,” voiced Victoria. “Which means we will all be leading by example to the other parents within the community.”

Killian balled his fists, but a feeling of helplessness began to permeate the fury burning inside of him. He felt his body begin to shake and his mind shut down from the assault of trepidation rising up within him, pounding in his chest and branching out into each of nerve endings . Robin’s eyes were practically branding him, willing him to speak up, to say _something_ , but he couldn’t bring the chaos of his mind under any sort of control to put together a coherent thought. 

“I think it is an idea worth exploring,” Eloise commented casually. “Shall we table it for our next meeting?”

A frenzy thundered in Killian’s ears, barely making him aware of Neal’s compliance to her request. Before he knew it, the meeting was adjourned and Robin was attempting to shake him from his stupor.

“Killian? Mate? What’s gotten into you?”

Killian shook himself and offered his friend a half-hearted apology before rushing off in pursuit of Eloise. He couldn’t let her get away with this, couldn’t let her do this to Alice. 

“Eloise, please,” he pleaded, catching her arm and spinning her around to face him. “Please don’t do this.”

“Do what?” she replied coyly, wrapping her fingers around his bicep and digging her fingers into the muscle.

“You know what,” he accused. “This isn’t about the men of the village finding _companionship_. This is about Alice, about you no longer having her, having me, under your thumb since Emma found and destroyed that mushroom.”

Something flashed in Eloise’s eyes and Killian realized that she hadn’t known the mushroom had been destroyed, and with it, any evidence of her actions.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t,” Killian snapped. “Don’t pretend you didn’t put Victoria up to this just to get back at me. She would have never made the request to lower the sponsorship age without your insistence. She can’t want that for her girls.” Killian shook his head and pondered, “How could you want that for _Alice_. She’s just a child.”

“She’ll be the same age you were when I sponsored you.”

Killian’s stomach rolled and he closed his eyes briefly to try and stay the rising bile. “Exactly.”

“You make it sound as though lowering the sponsorship age would be some sort of crime,” she replied with mocked offense. “Victoria and Neal don’t see it that way. In fact, with the three of us in agreement, we have enough votes to pass the resolution. However,” she released her grip on his arm and trailed fingers over his skin, “you might be able to persuade me to change my vote.”

Jerking back, away from her touch, he inquired sharply, “What do you want?”

“I want you to transfer Emma’s sponsorship and tie yourself to me.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious,” she said, stalking towards him as he stumbled back, wanting - _needing_ \- to keep as much distance between them as he could. “I know you think you’ve broken away, but you’ll always belong to me.”

“I don’t belong to you. I never have.”

“Maybe not. But you will.”

“Never.”

She tsked at him then smiled sadistically when his back finally hit the wall. “Not even to save your daughter from the same fate you seem so set against.”

“She’s your daughter, too,” he reminded her. “Do you really hate her so much that you’d see her suffer that way?”

“I don’t hate her,” she feigned in protest, bringing her hand up stroke the side of his face. “She’s provided a valuable service of keeping you in line… until you brought _her_ here.”

Killian hissed when she swiped her hand away, leaving a few angry welts from her nails against his cheek. “Emma,” he bit out through his clenched teeth. “Her name is Emma, and I am _not_ transferring her sponsorship to anyone else.”

“But there are so many others who’d be more than willing to step in as her sponsor. Neal, for example.” Her hands crept up his chest, sending a shudder of disgust over him while a fresh spark of rage roared to life within his gut. “He’s already agreed to change his vote in exchange for her. Would it really be such a hardship? It’s not as if you love her.”

“Actually.” He knocked her hands away and tilted his head forward, staring her down with a look of unabashed fervency. “I do.”

Eloise blanched. “You what?”

“I love her,” Killian declared with a quiet but firm resolve. “And I won’t trade her away. Do you hear me? I love _Emma_. Not you. _Her_.”

“And are you so sure she loves you as well?” 

He knew the question was meant to be like a slap in the face, her arched brow and smug smirk both raised in a taunting fashion.

“Actually, I’m fairly certain she doesn’t.” His words cause another flicker of shock to pass over her features. “But that changes nothing. I’ll protect her regardless.” 

“Because you love her,” Eloise sneered.

“Aye.”

“More than your daughter?”

“What sort of question is that?” Killian growled. “You know how much I love Alice. What she means to me.”

“Oh, I do know.” Triumph flashed in Eloise’s eyes. “Which is how I know that when it comes down to it… you’ll be mine.” She pressed against him, his back molding itself to the wall behind him as his eyes clamped shut at the feel of her breath along the shell of his ear. “Love is weakness, Killian. When will you learn that?”

~/~

Emma paced the cabin, her thumb nearly chewed down to the nub from where her nerves continued to nibble away at the nail. Robin had left some time before, dropping the bomb of Eloise’s countermeasure as proposed through Victoria during the elder meeting before he had to go and meet with Nick on another matter.

Of all the despicable things Emma had considered the woman might do in response to her foiled plan and broken control over Alice, this was beyond any of her worst imaginings.

She paused her meanderings and wrapped her arms around her waist, doubling over from the sudden flood of nausea assailing her gut. Their only saving grace was that Alice wouldn’t turn thirteen for another ten days, so even if the measure did get passed they still had time to get away before she could be Sponsored. 

The same wasn’t true for Margot or the other girls, though. A frightful reality that had clearly been eating away at Robin.

The door crashed open, making Emma jump. “Killian!” She started to rush towards him as he closed the cabin door, but something about his countenance made her stop short before reaching him. “Robin told me what happened at the elder meeting. He’s pretty shook up by it. Are you… okay?”

He wasn’t okay. A blind man would have been able to see that.

“I never thought it was a coincidence. You running into me that day.” His voice was hollow, as were his eyes which were fixed at the floor. “I had prayed that I might find someone to help us, and God… He answered.”

When he took a step away from the door, she instinctively took one back, not sure why she was keeping her distance, but feeling it prudent all the same.

“I almost made you come with me, did you know that?” They circled around one another, his eyes still unfocused on the rug at their feet, until they’d swapped positions. “I was so sure that you were meant to… I used it to justify my silence as we made our way here.”

“I know,” she said softly. “You told me all of this already. Remember?” 

“I knew God would provide, and you’d changed your mind, and then agreed to stay and help even after learning the truth.” His hands were trembling and the rise and fall of his chest was coming much faster now. “You discovered what was making Alice sick, you’ve made it possible for us to leave, and I thought…” His eyes finally lifted from the floor and sought hers. A haunting look of despondency shrouded the usual brilliance of their blue depths. “I thought I could protect you.”

The words were barely audible, but Emma’s heart clenched in response to the meaning behind them which spoke volumes within her soul. 

“I’m so much stronger now than I used to be,” he prattled on, the hollowness now reverberating an echo of mania in each syllable. “I’m an Elder. I have a voice now. People listen to me, but today… it was like I was… helpless all over again. It transported me back to that place. That place of feeling vulnerable and powerless.”

“You aren’t powerless,” Emma asserted, closing the distance between them and cupping his face in her hands. “We are going to get Alice out of here. You’re both going to get away from her. Forever.”

“She’s never going to stop,” Killian continued on as if he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. 

Maybe he hadn’t? By the crazed look in his eyes and the way his chest shuddered on the precipice of hyperventilating, Emma was pretty certain he had spiraled past the plane of reason and was falling headlong into a full blown panic attack.

“I have to make her stop. I’m stronger now…. I’m _stronger_ now.”

His body was shaking, on the verge of violent tremors. Tears stung Emma’s eyes in brief commiseration at the helplessness Killian was expressing. She had to do something to pull him back from the brink. Anything.

Without thought she released his face and grabbed the open ends of his button up shirt. Pulling him to her, she crashed their lips together and cut off his ramblings of madness. The force of her action had them swaying, the only motion being initiated by either of them until Killian inhaled deeply and wraps his arms around her. The frenzy of his mind alleviated itself against her mouth as he devoured her with a kiss more passionate than any she’d ever seen referenced in those forbidden books Ingrid had kept hidden away beneath her bed. 

Killian’s hand slid up her back, briefly kneading the muscles at the back of her neck before burying itself in her hair. It remained there when their lips released each other. Both were desperate to fill their lungs, but unwilling to break apart any further than was necessary. 

Killian’s eyes fluttered opened, his breath warm against her swollen lips as he murmured, “That was…”

“The only thing I could think of to try and calm you down,” she confessed. “I thought if I just-”

Her words were caught off by the urgent press of his lips. Before she could even acquiesce to the request his tongue was making at the seam of her lips, she found herself pinned against the door of the cabin with his hands over her wrists and his hips fused to hers. 

So much for calming him down.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains depictions of self harm, as well as mentions of other previously tagged warnings. 
> 
> As previously implied, Zelena was Robin's Sponsor when he first came into the community. However, she will be referred to by her OUAT cursed name, Kelly, within this fic.

* * *

 

Her kiss was intoxicating. He could feel the effects of it coursing through his veins, like an accelerant spreading through his extremities, on the verge of setting his entire being aflame. He would gladly burn for the pleasure of drinking from her lips, for the feel of her body molded against his, with its soft curves and eager responses. For the way her back arched, pressing her breasts into his chest so he could feel the hardening of her nipples through her thin cotton shirt. Or the way her hips tilted upwards to meet his each time he rolled against them, drawing out desperate sounds from the back of her throat that he felt sure really would set his blood on fire.

Relinquishing the hold he had on her lips, his mouth grazed along her jawbone allowing her to catch her breath while he nipped and sucked a path towards her ear.

“Killian,” Emma panted, her breathless, whimpering tone sending a fresh shudder of desire surging down his spine and tightening his groin.

“Yes, love?”

“You’re… _oh_ ,” she gasped, and he smiled against the sensitive patch of skin he’d just discovered behind her ear. “You’re, uh… you’re hurting my wrists a little.”

Killian stilled, the inferno raging in his libido effectively snuffed out by her words as a cold wash of awareness doused over him. Releasing her wrists he took several steps back, his hand running through his hair and grasping at the wisps in the back.

“I’m sorry, Swan. I didn’t… I didn’t even realize I was holding you down.”

“It’s okay,” she said breathlessly, licking her lips and making her way towards him. “You got a little carried away. It’s f-”

“No. It’s more than that I-” He took another step back. His chest was heaving and despite the shock her words had to his system, his member still throbbed with expectant desire. A feeling he couldn’t hope to abate when his eyes fell to her kiss swollen lips then took in the sight of her rosy cheeks, flushed with a heat that traveled down her neck and below the cut of her shirt where her nipples beckoned to him. With a violent shake of his head he rushed passed her towards the cabin door. “I’m sorry, Swan. I have to… I have to go.”

“What? Why?”

She tried to grasp his arm as he passed, and he instinctively recoiled from her touch. He couldn’t risk the feel of her skin on him now, not when his control was hanging by a thread.

“Killian?”

The confused hurt in her voice almost crumbled his resolve, but he endeavored to put as much space between them as he could and wrenched the cabin door open. “I’m sorry,” he said again, exiting the cabin and shutting the door on her protests, hoping she wouldn’t follow.

The crisp evening air burned in his lungs and sent a ripple of gooseflesh over his skin, his flannel doing little to fight off the chill of the approaching darkness. Few villagers lingered about as he made his way towards the back wall, the sentry posted there dutifully opening the gate when Killian nodded at him. He knew he didn’t have long. He’d have to report back before the sun completely set, but there were few places that could provide him the solace he desperately sought as the bluff just to the west of the compound that gave a full view of the lake.

Coming to rest upon a fallen log that overlooked the water, Killian focused on drawing deep, even breaths into his lungs as he continually flexed his hands in an attempt to discharge the tension that had built up within him. He closed his eyes, hoping it would allow him to concentrate on calming himself, but all he could see behind his lids was Emma. Knowing there was no way he could return to the cabin unless he was able to rein in his ardor, he reached down and pinched his inner thigh. Tears misted over his eyes and he bit down on his lip to keep from crying out, the assault on the already bruised and tender flesh becoming common place once again.

 _If only I weren’t so weak,_ he grumbled internally before releasing the grip he had on his thigh with a pained grunt. A throbbing ache still persisted, but it had at least ventured away from his groin. Finally feeling his body starting to calm, he ran a hand down his face then turned it towards the sky.

 _What the hell am I supposed to do now?_ Try as he might, Killian couldn’t organize his thoughts into any sort of coherent prayer. Too much had happened in such a short period of time, leaving him reeling with an aimless feeling that made him silently beg God for direction and guidance.

“I thought I might find you here,” Robin’s voice cut through Killian’s jumbled thoughts, dragging a sigh from his lungs.

“What are you doing here?”

“Emma sent me to find you,” Robin responded, taking a seat next to Killian. “Said you bolted after the two of you shared a _moment…_ a moment that apparently makes your Swan blush redder than a tomato, so I can hazard a guess as to what kind of _moment_ it was.” He knocked Killian good naturedly with his shoulder, but the stoic and serious expression that remained resolute on Killian’s features had his friend sobering. “She’s worried about you.” Robin exhaled a heavy sigh of his own and looked out over the water. “Hell, I’m worried about you. You just… shut down during the meeting. What happen-”

“She wants to make a trade,” Killian blurted out, realizing he’d yet to tell anyone of the ultimatum Eloise had given him.

“Who?”

“Eloise. She said she would change her vote so the resolution failed if I agreed to transfer Emma’s sponsorship to Neal.”

“What did you say?”

“I refused, but she.” The words seemed to expand, sticking in his throat and forcing him to swallow down the bitter truth he’d refused to admit to myself. “She knows I’ll do anything to protect Alice, but I can’t… I can’t do that to Emma. I don’t...” He wet his lips and closed his eyes in preparation of his confession. “I don’t want to let her go.”

“Well, of course you don’t. And now that Alice is well and you’re on the mend, you won’t have to. We can get the hell out of here before the council meets again to vote.”

“No, Rob, you don’t… you don’t get it.”

“What?” Robin turned to him with furrowed brows. “What don’t I get?”

Killian stood and began pacing along the edge of the bluff. “I made a promise to Emma that when this whole bloody thing was over, when we were all safely away from here, that we’d go our separate ways. But when Eloise gave me her ultimatum, told me that Neal had already agreed, I felt… and then when Emma kissed me I couldn’t stop myself from...” He knew he wasn’t making much sense. Truth be told, he was still trying to make sense of it all within his own mind. All he knew was that the things he’d been feeling for Emma since the moment she crashed into him in the woods had somehow amplified themselves with Eloise’s threats and Swans own lips until he wanted nothing more than to have Emma and make her his own.

“From what?” Robin questioned. “What did you do?”

“I-I kissed her. And I… I didn’t mean to, I didn’t even realize I was doing it, but I had a hold of her wrists and it wasn’t until she told me that I was being a little rough that I even realized I was holding her down.”

The confusion on Robin’s face deepened before he asked, “Are you saying it upset her? Because she didn’t seem too bothered when she asked me to come find you. And I thought you said she kissed you first.”

“That’s just it,” Killian replied with an edge of anxiety in his tone. “She kissed me because I was upset. I was… not in a good place after talking with Eloise, and Emma said kissing me was the only thing she could think of to calm me down, and I… I used to do the same thing. With Eloise.”

Understanding dawned across Robin’s face and he shut his eyes. “Aye.” His jaw tightened and let out a slow and steady breath. “It was the same between me and Kelly. Desperately trying to placate her moods with increasing levels of intimacy. At first, a simple hug would do the trick, but then...”

“They required more.”

It had always been an unspoken thing between them. They both knew they’d suffered in similar ways under their Sponsors, but neither of them ever discussed it. When Robin opened his eyes and turned his commiserating gaze up to him, Killian knew his friend finally grasped the weight and nature of his burden.

“I won’t put her in that position,” Killian declared. “I won’t do to her what they did to us.”

“Killian. Mate. You’re not,” Robin argued, standing to take hold of Killian’s shoulders and stop his pacing. “You are nothing like them. You aren’t manipulating Emma for her affection. You aren’t forcing her into your bed, demanding things from her she isn’t willing to give.”

“But I… I want her,” he confessed, unable to meet his friend’s eyes for the shame he felt in the admission.

Robin made an amused sort of sound and quipped, “Well, I would think something was wrong with you if you didn’t.”

Killian’s gaze snapped back with a wide incredulous look. “Come again?”

“Mate, there’s nothing wrong with what you feel for Emma. It’s natural to be drawn to a lovely lass, to desire her even, and given all you’ve been through together… No one would blame you for wanting to-”

“But it shouldn’t be about what _I_ want,” Killian protested. “Emma has made it clear she wants nothing to do with me after this is over, and-”

“And things change, Killian,” Robin interjected. “I was there when you got sick, mate. Emma barely left your side. And the way she asked me to come find you, to check on you. She cares about you, Killian. For all you know, she’s changed her mind.” Killian reeled for a moment at the possibility before Robin pressed on. “Our will was taken from us. Don’t discount Emma’s because you’re afraid of exerting your own.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Robin struggled for a moment, clearly trying to put order to his thoughts. “When things started to progress with Marion, romantically, I was… well, I was worried that I wouldn’t know how to be with a woman in a… in a normal way. In a healthy way. I was afraid of misinterpreting things, of pressuring her. For a long time, I wouldn’t allow myself to step into those moments of affection or intimacy she was offering because I thought she couldn’t _really_ want me. She practically had to spell it out for me before I realized she truly did want me as much I wanted her, and that I _had_ been guilty of taking her choice from her, just not in the way I had feared I would.”

Killian felt the air rush from his lungs. Could it be possible? Had Emma changed her mind? Did she, perhaps, truly wish to be with him, and not out of some twisted sense of obligation? The consideration of Robin’s words had a fresh worry churning in Killian’s gut.

“What if I’m not capable of loving her the way she deserves?”

Robin squeezed his shoulder, prompting him to look the man in the eyes which were filled with an absolute that rang through his words. “You already do, mate.”

Killian’s lips twitched up in half a smile while the tips of his ears burned, betraying him to his friend, even if the man had already come to perceive the truth.

“When did you get old enough to spout off such sage advice?” Killian inquired with a cocked brow.

Robin shrugged. “I found my first grey hair yesterday. Figured it had to be good for something.”

The two laughed jovially, and Killian felt the vice that had been gripping his insides ease up little by little as they made their way back into the village.

“Killian. There was another reason for me coming to find you, other than Emma’s request,” Robin confided in him when they reached their respective cabins.

“What is it?”

“You know how Neal had me meet with Nick about our meat stores and the need for a hunting trip?” Killian nodded that he did, indeed, remember Robin being sent on that errand at the conclusion of the meeting. “Well, Nick and Gideon are planning to leave tomorrow night before the end of the celebration to track a herd of deer that was spotted earlier… and you are to go with them. Per Neal’s orders.”

“Bloody hell,” Killian cursed under his breath. The day before, when he and Robin discussed an escape plan whilst Swan was making use of the bath, they’d weighed the possibility of being ready to leave as early as the night of the celebration, assuming Killian’s foot had healed enough. It seemed the perfect opportunity with community members distracted by the merriment and the watch a bit lax due to the lifted restriction on spirits. Too perfect, apparently, as Neal and Eloise had obviously come to the same conclusion, and saw fit to make sure Killian was separated from Emma and Alice, and well away from the village, before they’d have the chance to slip away altogether.

_Maybe there’s still a way-_

“And that’s not all,” Robin continued in a hushed tone, lest they be overheard. “Eloise and Victoria have decided to allow the girls a sleep over tomorrow night as well. Margot said it was to celebrate Alice’s recovery, but you and I both know it’s an added precaution.”

“Aye,” Killian sighed. “I suppose we’ll just have to come up with another plan when I get back.”

“At least this trip gives us the chance to smuggle a few things out ahead of time,” Robin acknowledged. “I can round up some ammunition, small knives, maybe a handgun or two for you to hide outside the walls for us.”

“That’s a sound idea,” Killian agreed. “I could try and pack extra clothes and other provisions as well. It would be less for us to try and sneak out of here with, when the time comes.”

“I’ll see what I can pull together.” Robin’s eyes flicked to something behind Killian, and a roguish smile spread across his face. “But for now, I think I’ll say goodnight.”

Killian turned to see what Robin had been looking at and his pulse quickened at the sight of Emma and his Alice approaching.

“Papa!” Alice ran up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Miss Emma said you were finishing something up with Elder Robin, so we went and had dinner without you. I hope that was alright.”

“Of course, Starfish,” Killian assured her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived.”

Guilt washed over him. He’d completely forgotten Eloise’s consent to allow Alice to stay the night with him and Emma. He lifted his gaze and met his Swan’s assessing eyes, offering her, what he hoped to be, a grateful smile.

“Thank you for seeing to Alice’s needs while Robin and I…” His words fell away and his jaw tightened. There was so much he wanted to say to her, to explain, but none of them were things he could utter in Alice’s presence.

“Is everything okay?”

He could hear her real question, the one being posed by the concerned look in her eyes. _Are_ you _okay?_

“Aye,” Killian replied. “Robin was able to assist me and I managed to work things out.”

She gave him a tentative but relieved smile then flicked her gaze down to Alice. “Well, why don’t we get inside and out of the cold,” she suggested. “Then Alice can tell you all about the sleepover she and the other girls have planned for tomorrow night after the celebration.”

Her pointed look told Killian she’d already worked out the ulterior motive behind the planned activity. However, the truth didn’t marr Killian’s joy at seeing how delighted his daughter was about getting the chance to have her first ever sleep over. The three of them sat on the sofa, listening to Alice’s excitement as she prattled on between Killian and Emma who continually cast covert glances at one another.

“I’m so happy mother agreed to let me stay with you tonight,” Alice sighed happily as she got ready for bed behind the wardrobe doors. “Do you think she’ll let me do so again the night after next?”

Killian reached up and scratched behind his ear. He’d been hoping to put off the announcement of his departure until the morning as to not cast a pall on their evening.

“Actually, love. I’m going to be leaving tomorrow night before the end of celebration.”

Emma’s head snapped towards him with a startled expression on her face. ”What? Why?”

“Our meat stores are running low. Some of the other men and I are going to track a herd of deer that was spotted and see if we can’t bag a few of them,” he explained while giving her a look heavy with subtext.

“How long will you be gone?”

“Hopefully, no more than a few days.”

Silence thundered between them as they both calculated how many days that would leave them to get away before Alice’s birthday.

“Maybe Miss Emma and I could have a sleepover while you’re gone, Papa!”

Emma smiled over at Alice. “I’d love that, Alice, but we’ll have to see what your mother thinks of the idea.”

Killian could see a melancholy swirling in her eyes, knowing Eloise wasn’t likely to give her permission.

Emma stood and headed toward the bed where Alice’s things lay. “I suppose we should get the sofa made up for you.”

“No need,” Killian spoke up hastily. “I thought it might be best for you and Alice to take the bed. I’ll take the sofa.”

“Oh. Right,” Emma replied.

A look ghosted across her face, one Killian dared to hope might have been rejection. Not that he wanted her to feel rejected, just that the idea of not sharing the bed with him might cause her to feel such an emotion at all had his spirits soaring.

“Plus, if Alice sleeps in the bed, we’re less likely to disturb her when we come back from our walk outside,” he said while formally making the request that she join him for just such a nighttime activity with his eyes.

“Uh… yeah. That’s a… that’s a good idea,” Emma responded, having caught on to his silent request. “We should probably get going then, before it gets too much later and past curfew.”

“Do you have time to sing to me first, Papa?” Alice asked, coming out from behind the wardrobe door. “Like you used to?”

Killian’s chest tightened and a warmth spread through him in the face of his starfish’s imploring blue eyes.

“Of course he does,” Emma answered with the same affection he felt gripping his heart while pulling back the blankets on the bed. “You tuck her in and I’ll get the sofa made up for you.”

“Aye, love,” Killian responded, waiting for Alice to get settled before joining her on the bed.

~/~

Emma listened while Killian crooned to his little girl, fighting a losing battle with the feelings she kept trying and failing to squelch. She knew her resolve had been slipping. The walls she’d erected ever since the events after Ingrid’s death, the ones she’d started to let down during her journey to the village with Killian, only to refortify when she’d learned of his deception had started to crumble once again. They practically laid in ruins now after his kiss, and prepared as she was to start rebuilding them after he’d fled from the cabin, she was having a hard time mustering up the conviction to do so.

Falling for him was not part of the plan.

Wanting to have him kiss her again, to feel his body pressed against her, and to share the bed with him for more than just sleeping was definitely not part of the plan.

_Maybe it’s time for a new plan?_

“She’s out, love. Shall we?”

Killian extended his hand towards her, rousing her from her thoughts. She placed hers within his grasp, her breath stuttering slightly at the feel of his rough, warm skin as he helped her up from where she sat. Without letting go of her hand, he led them from the cabin, but not before grabbing the extra blanket she’d left folded on the coffee table.

They walked in silence until arriving at a bench within the courtyard, well removed from the quarters of the other villagers where they might find themselves a bit of privacy. Killian draped the blanket over their legs to help ward off the cold, and Emma waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.

“While I’m gone,” he began in a hushed tone. “I need you to stay in the company of the other women or the children. Don’t get caught alone with any of the men… especially Neal.”

“Do you think he’ll try something while you’re gone?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him, but it’s more the perception of impropriety that could be used against you that I’m concerned with.”

A skirmish broke out within his eyes. He was clearly torn about sharing something with her.

“The only person here that I truly trust is Robin. If you have any problems you can go to him. He’ll look out for you.”

“And I’ll look out for Alice while you’re gone,” Emma promised, knowing his anxiety must be spiking at having to leave his child behind in the compound once again. The memory of the girl’s serene and contented face while her father sang to her as she snuggled into his side made Emma smile. “She’s a pretty terrific kid.”

“Aye,” Killian agreed with a smile of his own, his gaze fondly drifting towards the cabin where his little starfish slept. “Alice is the best of me. This place. These people.” A heavy sigh fell into the pause while Killian seemed to grapple with his words. “I hate how my beliefs have been bastardized, that my youth and innocence were stolen from me, and yet, I can’t bring myself to despise my experience here entirely. Not when it brought her into my life.” He gave her a shy sideways glance with an insecure smile tugging at one side of his mouth as his hand reached up to scratch behind his ear. “I realize that sounds crazy and is probably difficult for you to understand.”

Emma held his self conscious gaze, her eyes dancing between his and admitted, “Not as difficult as you might think.”

Killian’s lips parted as he drew in a swift breath, his eyes piercing into her own through the darkness that shrouded them. His tongue swept across his lip before he pulled the tender flesh between his teeth, then released it with sincerity burning in his gaze.

“I’m sorry, Emma.”

“For what?”

“For everything.” His head fell and turned away, his bearing tense with remorse and self-reproach. “For bringing you here. I was so selfish, and you… Everything you’ve done for Alice, for me. I know I don’t deserve your kindness, your friendship, your… affection.” He paused and she could see his Adam’s apple bob even in the faint light of the moon and hanging lanterns within the square. “I am grateful for it, though. For it and for you. I just want you to know that I am _truly_ sorry.”

Emma reached over and coaxed his face back towards her, his cheek resting in her palm. “I forgive you,” she whispered.

His eyes fell shut and he nuzzled into her hand, the tension melting off of him as her words took root. A moment later, he opened his eyes and pulled away, a fresh resolve now setting on his shoulders.

“Swan. About earlier.”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted. “I want to.”

Emma nodded and gave him her full attention, knowing that whatever he was about to say wasn’t going to be easy for him. She knew enough of his past to hazard a guess as to why he’d reacted the way he had, and didn’t want him to feel compelled to relive the atrocities he’d suffered in order to appease her feelings, but it didn’t stop her from craving some reassurance that it hadn’t been because he didn’t actually want her.

“I’ve never been with someone of my own free will,” he said tightly. “All I know of that kind of intimacy is…”

Emma’s heart sank into her stomach. “Forced,” she finished for him. “Oh, God. Killian, I’m so sorry. I never should have kissed you like that, I-”

“Emma, no,” he protested, taking her hands. “No, I’m the one who was forceful with you. I… like I said, I wasn’t even aware that I had a hold of you like that, and when I did, it… it scared me.”

“Because of what Eloise did to you? Because you were afraid you were doing the same with me?”

“Aye,” he confirmed with a tone of disgust. “She used to coerce intimacy from me, manipulate me into acts of affection with her volatile moods that I felt obliged to mollify because she was my Sponsor. I never meant to do that with you. It wasn’t my intention when I came back so-”

“I know that,” she assured him, squeezing his hands firmly in her own. “Killian, I know you are not like that. Like them. And yes, I did kiss you because I wanted to help, but…”

“But what?”

Her cheeks burned and her skin prickled with an awkwardness she wasn’t accustomed to feeling. “It wasn’t the first time I’ve wanted to kiss you, or have you kiss me.”

It was now her turn to cast her head aside, unable to look him in the eye after her confession. He wouldn’t allow her to pull away, though. Releasing one of her hands, his fingers reached up to gently grip her chin and he brought her face back around towards his. She swallowed and wet her lips, his eyes darted to follow the movement before flicking back up to hers. The words he wished to express somehow took precedence over the desire she saw reflected in his midnight gaze and hung on each syllable.

“I know we agreed to go our separate ways once we’re free of this place, and if that is still your wish, Swan, I will honor it, but…” He let go of her chin and took in a deep breath, one she mirrored then held in anticipation of what came next. “I once offered you a chance to be a part of something. I want you to know that the offer still stands. Not here, obviously, but with us. With Alice and me. The three of us making our own fate away from here. Together.”

Emma’s mind swam for a moment, the breath caught in her lungs making it hard for her to formulate a response. She’d just managed to open her mouth when he quickly cut her off.

“You don’t have to decide now,” he said. “In fact, I’d prefer it if you’d take the time while we’re apart to really think it over. It’s important to me that whatever we choose to become to one another, you are just as sure about it as I am. Because what I am sure of, is that I can’t have just a _one time thing_ with you, Emma. I want to be with you for the long haul, but only if you want that, too.”

The truth of what he was saying to her shone within his eyes and stole her breath. The gravity of what he was asking for hit her with a force she could have never prepared for, anymore than she could have conceived the initial impulse of her response. She knew how important it was to him, given his upbringing, that she not make a decision about building a future together unless she’d really thought it through. If she answered him now, he’d probably always worry that her choice had been made in the heat of an emotionally charged moment and not out of careful consideration of what she truly wanted. A worry that may very well hold some truth, because all she wanted to do was tell him yes and have him kiss her again.

Maybe a few days apart wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Alright,” she agreed. “I’ll think it over while you’re gone and let you know what I decide before we leave this place.”

His hand tightened around hers, a soft smile stretching over his lips and crinkling at his eyes. “Thank you, love.”

“Elder Killian?” a voice called out from a figure approaching them from the far side of the square. A figure that turned out to be Gideon, Neal’s half brother. “Apologies for the interruption, but it’s nearly curfew, sir.”

“Aye, of course,” Killian acknowledged, standing from the bench and assisting Emma to her feet while haphazardly gathering the blanket and throwing it over his shoulder without letting go of her hand.

They nodded a farewell to Gideon and headed back to the cabin. A few steps shy of the destination, Emma froze in her tracks.

“Swan? What’s wrong?”

She shushed him and strained her ears to try and pick-up the sound she thought she’d heard a moment ago. After several seconds of silence ticked by she asked, “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“I thought I heard a...” she gulped down the anxiety threatening to rise up at the memories the sound had evoked, then shook her head. “Nothing. Nevermind. I think I’m just worn out, and hearing things. Long day, you know?”

“Let’s get you to bed then, Swan,” Killian suggested with a small look of concern still present on his features.

By the next morning, the sound had been forgotten. Well, not forgotten, but pushed from her mind as a probable figment of her imagination. The business of finalizing things for the celebration, as well as the topic of her conversation with Killian the night before, helped to take her mind off it and the memories trying to push their way into the forefront of her mind. By the time the festivities were underway, the only thing plaguing her thoughts was Killian’s impending departure.

“Have everything you need?”

“Aye, all packed up and ready to go,” Killian sighed.

“And how’s your foot?” Emma had checked it that morning, knew it was nearly healed and that he’d had no further issues with it, but it didn’t stop her from worrying about the trek he was about to make on it.

“It feels fine,” he replied with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “In fact, I’d say it was good enough to dance on.” He took her hand and started to pull her towards the center of the square where several people were already dancing to the music provided by the makeshift band of community members. “May I have this dance, Swan?”

His formal bow elicited an eye roll, but she didn’t hesitate to join him in the middle of the crowd, relishing the feeling of being in his arms as they swayed to the music. The way he was gazing down at her made her heart flutter. Everything around them began to fade along the edges of her periphery until it felt as though they were the only two people left in the entire world.

“I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“Aye. Me, too.” His head tilted forward, resting his forehead against hers and he inhaled deeply as if breathing her in. “But it’s only for a few days, and you’ll have Alice and Robin to keep you company.” His lips twitched as he pulled back with brow arched in equal amount of smugness and hope. “Are you saying you’re going to miss me, love?”

Before Emma could answer, Alice skipped up to them and grabbed her father’s hand. “Papa, you promised me a dance. Remember?”

“I remember, starfish,” Killian chuckled as his daughter tugged on him to follow her. Emma hadn’t even realized the music had stopped momentarily while the band set up for the next song. “Will you excuse me, Swan? It seems my dance card is quite full this evening.”

“Of course,” Emma said with a small laugh. She returned to the edge of the square, watching Killian spin Alice around the dance area, both with giant smiles on their faces that made Emma’s insides warm. They both looked so happy. And they both deserved every ounce of that happiness. She hadn’t realized how invested she’d become in making that happiness a lasting reality, but now that she did, she also longed to have a part in it.

The smile that had taken up residence on her face while she watched father and daughter twirl one another, slowly soured when she caught sight of Eloise approaching them. She hated that woman. Try as she might to hold onto the teachings Ingrid had instilled in her to _love thy enemy_ , Emma couldn’t muster up an ounce of compassion or goodwill for the foul woman. Especially when she could see the effects of that foulness still wreaking havoc on those Emma cared for.

Killian’s entire body tensed and he drew Alice into his side when Eloise stopped before them. Emma had no idea what she was saying, but it was clear Killian was attempting to refuse her something while remaining civil, given they were in full view of the entire village. Alice opened her mouth to say something, and Eloise’s reply made Killian’s face turn an incensed shade of purple. He flicked a quick glance Emma’s way then gave Eloise a resigned nod before sending Alice off to join the other girls who were enjoying the festivities nearby.

Emma’s hands balled into tight fists as she watched Eloise take Killian’s hand and wrap it around her waist before drawing him in close. He tried to keep a proper distance between them as they maneuvered around the square, but she kept pressing in closer and closer to him. His back was more rigid than Emma had ever seen and she could feel the control he was forced to exert to keep from jerking his head away when her fingers began toying with his hair and running themselves along the back of his neck.

She was about to march up to them and cut in when Nick beat her to it. Relief swept through her that the young man allowed Killian the excuse he needed to escape Eloise’s clutches, but that relief turned hollow when she remembered that the interruption Nick had provided likely meant it was time for their hunting party to depart.

The likelihood solidified itself when Killian made his way back to Alice, kneeling before her and hugging her tightly with a clear good-bye before placing a kiss on her forehead. He then brushed past Eloise without a word and made his way towards Emma, a hard look resonating within his eyes.

“Time for me to go, Swan,” he bit out, obviously trying to rein in whatever emotions were laying waste to his mood.

Emma took his hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “Want me to walk you to the gate?”

A strangled breath left his lungs and his shoulders visibly sagged. “I’d like that. Thank you, love.”

Hand in hand they walked to the cabin to collect his pack then slowly made their way towards the front gate.

“What did she say?” Emma inquired. She’d wanted their walk to be one that might help calm him before he left, but her curiosity got the better of her.

“She wanted a dance,” Killian answered. “I told her I wanted to spend my time with Alice before her sleepover started and I had to leave. Then Alice asked about having a sleepover with you whilst I’m gone. Eloise said she’d agree if I danced with her, so-”

“Killian you didn’t have to do that.”

“Aye, I know, but,” he stopped them a few yards away from the gate where Nick and Gideon were already waiting, “I didn’t want to disappoint Alice, and at least this way you won’t be alone every night I’m gone.”

Emma shook her head at his insistence of putting everyone else’s comfort above his own.

“Remember what I said, Swan. About staying close to the women and children.”

“I will. Promise.” Her grip on his hand tightened, unwilling to let him go just yet. “Promise me you’ll be careful. I won’t be there to save you if you encounter another bear trap.”

Killian huffed out an amused sound and a smile finally graced his lips. “Fortunately, neither Nick nor Gideon are enough of a distraction to cause me to step on one again.”

Emma’s giggle was cut off by Nick calling out that they needed to get going.

Killian’s brows drew together pensively. “I’ll see you if a few days, love.” He leaned in hesitantly, almost as if he might think better of his actions before placing a soft kiss on her cheek. “Good bye.”

“Bye,” she whispered, letting go of his hand.

She held back the unexpected tears that began to pool in her eyes as she watched him disappear into the darkness. Her chest constricted with concern for him until she reminded herself that he’d been out of the safety of the compound before and knew how to take care of himself.

Wiping away the errant tear tear that had fallen from her lashes, Emma started back to village square. Out of the corner of her eye she say movement in the black shroud of night and quickened her pace.

“Sister Emma.” The voice she’d been dreading slithered down her spine as Neal came into view. “What are you doing so far from the festivities?”

 _I could ask you the same thing._ “I was seeing Killian off,” Emma replied without pausing her steps. “He and the others just left for the hunting trip.”

“And you’re on your way back to the celebration?”

“Yes.”

He managed to catch up with her, grasping her elbow and slowing her down. “Then allow me to escort you,” he offered with a tone that did not invite argument. “I think it would only be proper, seeing as I’m to be your new Sponsor.”

That stopped Emma short. “Excuse me?”

Neal gave her what she was sure was meant to be a look of pure innocence. “Did Brother Killian not mention it before he left?”

“Mention what?” Emma clipped.

“His offer to transfer his sponsorship of you to me if I agreed to vote against the age lowering?”

Emma reeled for a moment then jerked her elbow out of his grasp. “Killian would never do that.”

Neal took a quick step towards her, grabbed her arm once more, and pulled her into him. “Are you calling me, the voice of the Lord Almighty here in this village, a liar?” he sneered.

“I… of course not,” Emma replied, swallowing past the lump that had formed in her throat. She couldn’t risk making an enemy out of Neal, even if it was clear he lying through his teeth. “Forgive me, I’m just… shocked. Killian hasn’t said anything about us not being a good fit together.”

Her apology seemed to appease him. He gave her a look of pity and rubbed his hand lightly up and down her arm, forcing her to swallow again, this time against the rising bile. “I know it can be disheartening to hear you failed to please your Sponsor and meet their expectations, but don’t take it too hard. I’m sure you’ll have much better luck pleasing me.”

Emma wasn’t sure how she should respond (though she imagined a few ways that she’d _like_ to), and all she kept hearing was Killian’s warning to not get caught alone with Neal.

“Come. Let’s head back to the party and we can share a dance in celebration of the pending transfer.”

“Actually,” Robin’s voice sounded from behind them, “I believe I was promised a dance by Miss Swan.”

Emma turned out of Neal’s slackened hold and gave Robin a grateful smile. “Of course.” She hastily took his arm and let him lead her back to the square, calling over her shoulder, “You’ll excuse us, won’t you Brother Neal?”

Robin remained quiet as they moved around the dance floor, allowing her time to pull herself together and stop trembling from her anger. When she finally thanked him for intervening, he broke his silence.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come after you sooner,” he said. “I saw you and Killian walk off to the gate together, and I wanted to give the two of you time to say goodbye. When I noticed Neal was gone too, I knew I had to find you. I promised Killian I’d watch out for you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I appreciate you being there for me, but I can look out for myself,” Emma assured him. She worried at her lip for a moment then said, “Neal told me that Killian offered him a trade. Me for his vote against the age lowering resolution.”

“Bloody wanker,” Robin cursed under his breath. “It isn’t true. Eloise is the one who made the ultimatum to Killian,” he explained. “Told him she’d make sure the resolution failed if he gave you to Neal and tied himself to her.”

Emma’s stomach rolled at the thought. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Probably because he flatout refused,” Robin stated before reminding her, “It doesn’t matter anyway, because we’re all getting out of here before a vote even has to be cast.”

“Right,” Emma agreed weakly. _But what if we don’t?_

~/~

Alice loved the water. She was so like her papa that way. Every chance she got, she asked Emma to take her to the lake so the could skip rocks, watch for turtles, or just stare off across the water imagining what might lie on the other side. During the days that followed Killian’s departure from the village, Emma took every opportunity she could to spend with Alice, looking out for her as promised. Though, she couldn’t deny how much she enjoyed the young girl’s company, even on days like today when she was a bit down from missing her father.

She wasn’t the only one.

The morning after Killian had left, Emma had woken up nearly bereft from the absence of his arms around her. The bed felt much too big with only her in it. Eloise had reneged on her promise to let Alice stay over so the nights had been a lonely affair. A loneliness that cemented the choice Emma had promised to consider while Killian was away.

She never wanted to go back to that solitary life she’d been living when Killian found her. Closed off from the world in an effort to protect herself was no way to live. Sure, there were people who would try to take advantage, who would sweet talk and swindle their way in with their agendas and loathsome intentions. She’d fallen for that before. But that wasn’t Killian. She’d known that the moment he’d put himself in harm’s way to protect her, even if she’d tried to bury that knowledge behind her walls. Walls someone else had been responsible for erecting. Now those walls were down, and she wanted them to stay that way. It was time to let go of the memory of how those walls were ever built in the first place and look towards the future.

“Alice, we need to head back in. It’s almost time for supper.”

The girl’s somber stride pulled at Emma’s heart. She draped an arm over Alice’s shoulders and lamented, “I miss him too, Alice. He’ll be back soon, though.”

“I know,” Alice sighed. “Thank you for bringing me to the lake again.”

“Anytime, starfish,” Emma teased, hoping to draw out a smile with the use of her nickname. She succeeded. “I like coming to the lake, too. It’s nice and quiet.”

“Yeah,” Alice agreed with a warmer tone in her voice. Though her next words made Emma’s blood run cold. “Except for the whistling.”


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

 

The coals of the forge smoldered in warm hues spectruming from red to orange in the cooler zones and bright yellows to white in the hotter. Emma tugged on the chord that engaged the bellows and forced air into the embers as she pulled her eyes away from the heating metal and cast them over her shoulder.

In the days Killian had been gone, Emma had been on constant guard. First from Neal, who lurked and lingered about with his predatory sights set on her during all hours of the day, and second, with increasing vigilance while she strained for any further instances of whistling outside the community walls. She hadn’t mentioned the whistling to anyone as of yet. The only person she could really confide in was Robin, but she didn’t feel right in telling him the full story before she had a chance to reveal it to Killian first.

Grabbing her tongs, she removed the glowing billet from the fire and laid it atop her anvil. With hammer in hand she struck the metal, sending sparks flying as she pounded her frustrations and worries onto the steel. She wasn’t sure how many more days she could endure the constant anxiety. The looking over her shoulder and startling at every sound that whispered through the trees. How many more nights would she have to fortify the door of the cabin in order to ensure Neal could not enter while she slept?

How much longer before Killian returned so she could tell him she wanted to be with him, now and after they escaped this wretched place?

The sound of excited shouts hit Emma’s ears over the clanging of her hammer. Setting her tools aside, she began removing her gloves and called out to one of the community members passing by towards the main gate of the compound.

“What’s going on?”

“The hunting party,” the woman shouted enthusiastically over her shoulder without stopping. “They’ve returned!”

Emma pulled her bottom lip between her teeth to stop the ridiculous grin that threatened to break out over her face as relief and joy washed over her. A flush of expectation swept its way across her skin as she made her way to the gate, her heart rate picking up speed with each step. Her breath caught when she finally saw him. He was really back. Safe and sound, and looking really good.

She changed course, hoping to catch his eye as he greeted the villagers, and that’s when she saw Eloise making a beeline for him. Killian noticed the other woman’s approach too, and Emma could see the tension roll through his body as he prepared for her unwelcome embrace. Breaking into a sprint, Emma launched herself at him and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, thwarting Eloise’s advances. Killian caught her in his arms with a forceful _oof_ and a chuckle that rumbled through his chest, now pressed against hers.

Killian’s face was beaming when she looked up at him, a smile stretched across his lips as he greeted, “Hello, beautiful.”

“Hi,” she replied bashfully. Suddenly aware that all eyes were on them, she took a small step back.

“You’re back,” Eloise’s curt voice stated beside them. “How did it go?”

“Very well.” Killian wrapped his arm around Emma’s waist and pulled her into his side, using her as a buffer. “We bagged quite a few deer. Added to what was left in our stores, it should be enough to get us through the winter. Nick is seeing to them now.”

“Well,” Eloise moved closer, ignoring Emma’s presence completely as she stepped into Killian’s space. “I’m so pleased that you’re back.”

“Alice will be thrilled, too,” Emma chimed in, placing her hand on his chest. His anxiety riddled pulse thundered beneath her palm. “She and I are having a tea party this afternoon. I was about to head that way. Come with me? I know she can’t wait to see you.”

His eyes crinkled, sparkling down at her, and she felt his body calm beside her. Taking her hand in his, he let her guide them past Eloise and the other villagers. Without letting go of her hand, he draped his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his side once again, their joined hands resting over her heart.

Having cleared the crowd, Emma nearly lost her footing when she felt him press a tender kiss to her temple, followed by the soft purr of his dulcet lilt.

“Thank you, love.”

“Of course,” she said, smiling up at him. “Welcome home.”

His head began to dip down, as though he might place a kiss at her lips, when the action was cut off by Alice’s exuberant cry.

“Papa, you’re home!” She stood from the makeshift tea table she’d constructed on the old stump outside the children’s quarter and ran towards them. Emma allowed him to release her so her could drop his pack and capture his little girl in his arms, lifting her up and spinning her around before he set her down for a tight hug.

“I missed you, Papa,” Alice muffled into his shirt, her arms wrapped fiercely around his middle.

“I missed you too, Starfish.” Killian placed a kiss to the top of her head and Emma’s heart swelled a bit at the sight.

“And Miss Emma,” Alice questioned once she’d finally released her hold of him. “Did you miss her, too?”

Emma’s pulse jumped at the look he gave her over the top of Alice’s head, fondness and affection pouring from their blue depths and garmenting her in their warmth.

“Aye. Miss Emma, too,” he stated almost reverently.

“Good,” Alice chirped. “Because she missed you. A lot.”

Emma felt her cheeks flush and she cast her gaze to the ground. Alice skipped off toward the table all set for their tea party; a self-satisfied smirk, too much like her Papa’s, adorned her lips.

“Is that true?” Killian questioned softly, taking a step to close the gap Alice had left between them. “Did you miss me, Swan?”

A coy smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as she glanced up at him through her lashes. “Maybe a little.”

That beaming smile was back.

~/~

The sun was setting by the time Killian and Emma made their way back to the cabin. Having spent the entirety of the afternoon with his starfish, then accompanying her to the evening meal, Killian had only briefly stopped by the cabin to drop off his pack earlier. Now that he was settling himself back into the familiar space of his cabin, he started to notice some subtle changes.

Fresh scuff marks marred the floor, where it appeared his desk had been moved, and items littered the once empty window sills. Raising a brow in Swan’s direction, she provided him with an answer before he could even voice the question. An answer that made his jaw tighten as his blood ran cold.

“It was to keep Neal out.” Emma continued assisting him unpack his things as she went on to explain. “Robin caught him lurking outside the cabin that first night you were gone. After that I thought it best to fortify all the entrances to try and deter him.” A chagrined look swirled in her eyes as they met his. “Sorry about the floor.”

“I don’t give a bloody damn about the floor, Swan,” he said, approaching her. “Just tell me he didn’t succeed in-”

“No,” she assured him, letting him take hold of her shoulders while his gaze gave her a once over, assessing the truth of her statement. “I’m fine, Killian. Robin made sure I was never alone during the day, and he kept an eye on the cabin as best he could at night.”

Killian nodded, her words alleviating the initial distress he’d felt, but not quite banishing it entirely. He’d learned during their tea party with Alice that Eloise had not kept to her bargain of allowing their daughter to sleep over with Emma during his absence, and though he had worried about what that had meant for Emma, it wasn’t until he saw the lengths she’d had to go through to protect herself that the agitation of that disquiet had begun to churn in his gut.

“Hey,” Emma soothed softly, brushing her fingertips down his face. “It’s okay. _I’m_ okay.”

He nodded again, but the turbulent emotions bubbling up from within continued to tick away in the muscle beneath her palm.

“Killian,” Emma urged, tilting his head so he was forced to look her in the eye. “Seriously. I’m fine. It doesn’t matter what Neal might have tried to do. You’re back now. We’re both safe now that we’re together again.”

Killian’s eyes flicked between hers and a soft exhale left his lungs, one he’d been holding for far too long. Emma smiled up at him, her thumb lightly brushing over his cheek. Her eyes fell to his lips when he parted them slightly to swipe his tongue across over the lower one and he could feel a fresh charge permeate the air around them.

Lifting herself up to her toes, Emma’s eyes fell shut a moment before her lips met his. Wrapping his arms around her, Killian closed his eyes and lost himself in the feel of her pressed against him. Fingers threaded through the back of his hair, gentle nips tugged at his lips, and a contented sigh resonated in the back of her throat. All too soon, she broke away from him, resting her forehead against his with a shy smile displayed on her face.

“So, you only missed me a little, eh Swan?” he teased, brushing the tip of his nose against hers.

“Maybe more than a little,” Emma replied with a fresh blush blooming in her cheeks and her lip secured between her teeth.

“Good,” he whispered. “Because I missed you so bloody much.”

He captured her mouth once more, deepening the kiss with tender demands as his tongue took command over hers. The passionate force of the kiss had them swaying and spinning as hands roamed over backs, sank into one another’s hair, and cupped the other’s face. Killian nearly lost his balance when the side of his calf hit the foot of his bed. The unexpected impact jolted them both and they stood staring at one another, chests heaving and skin flushed from the heady effect of the kiss.

Killian’s eyes went wide as he watched Emma reach down and grab the hem of her shirt, slipping it over her head without taking her eyes from his.

“Emma?” Killian questioned breathlessly, his eyes raking over her chest.

“I did as I promised,” Emma told him. “While you were gone, I thought about what I want.” She started to unbutton his shirt, but her eyes remained fixed on his. “I want _you_ , Killian. And not just tonight, but after we leave this place. I want to belong to that future you have planned. You, me, and Alice. Together.”

Killian grasped her hands, stalling their motion before she could peel his shirt away from his body. “Are you sure, Emma?”

A tender smile lifted at her lips and she gave him a small nod. “I’m sure.”

There was more kissing while they undressed one another, leaving them both in nothing but their underwear when Killian sat on the edge of the bed with her straddling his lap. Removing her bra, his mouth turned its attention to her breasts. Emma arched into his touch as his lips and hands roamed over the creamy flesh and rosy buds, her moans and sighs making him strain against the hot core he could feel through his boxer briefs.

An indignant whimper escaped him when she pulled away and climbed off his lap, but it was quickly replaced by a series of stuttered exhales as he watched her slowly slip her underwear down her legs. His cock jumped at the sight of her, the movement capturing her attention as her eyes fell to his groin.

“Well, that’s looking a little better from the last time I saw it,” Emma commented, kneeling between his knees and running her fingers lightly over the deep bruise that was fading on the inside of his upper thigh. “Are you ever going to tell me what caused it in the first place?”

Wetting his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbed as her hands glided up his thighs and toyed with the band of his boxer briefs. “I did.”

Emma’s brow pinched together and her head cocked to one side.

“It’s an old habit,” Killian went on to explain with shallow breaths. “Something I used to do when my body would… react in situations I didn’t want it to. I didn’t want her to think… I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t want to think about _her_ right now. “I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea either. I didn’t want to worry you with my… response.”

“Oh, Killian,” she replied with pained understanding swimming in the green depths of her eyes. “You don’t have to do that. Not with me. Not ever again.”

Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his inner thigh, kissing the bruise. A startled, shuddering gasp shook Killian as her lips trailed up his thigh and her hands peeled his underwear down his legs. Lifting his hips to allow their removal, he gloried in the feel of Emma’s lips caressing his hip bone then crossing his lower abdomen in a hot path of tongue and teeth. Her hair curtained his thighs as her kisses nearly drove him to madness, inching ever closer to his aching member.

“Is this okay?” she inquired, her breath hot and provoking against him.

“Yes,” Killian answered on a desperate breath. “God, yes.”

When her tongue tentatively dipped into the slit of his tip, collecting the bead of arousal that had collected there, Killian’s head fell back and he collapsed down onto his forearms. A guttural sound echoed through the cabin when she wrapped her mouth around the head before slowly exploring the length of him with her lips and tongue. Sweat gathered in the hollow of his throat from the flush that ran up his body. A swell of raw sensations he’d never experienced before assaulted him in a way wholly different from those his past had inflicted upon him.

Killian buried his hand in Emma’s hair, staring down at her over the rise and fall of his chest. The sight of her hollowed cheeks and swollen lips was almost his undoing and it was with a reluctant tone that he urged her to stop.

“God, I don’t want you to stop,” he amended raggedly when her pace faltered and she glanced up at him. “But I’ll have nothing left for you if you don’t give me a moment to collect myself.”

She released him and ran her tongue over her lips, her breasts flushed a rosy pink and heaving from her exertions and desire. “So… that was okay, then?”

Her uncertain look of questioning clued him in even as he asked, “Had you never done that before?”

Bashfully, she shook her head and her cheeks reddened further at the admission. He reached down and assisted her off her knees then guided her to the bed.

“A first for both of us then,” he confirmed, bringing his lips down to kiss the tender skin of her stomach as she lay back on the mattress.

“Really?” She carded her fingers through his hair, her eyes fluttering shut when his mouth grazed below her belly button.

“Aye. Really,” he murmured into her skin, smiling at the raised effect his breath was causing to her fine hairs.

Edging further down, he felt her tense when his teeth grazed the jut of her hip bone.

“Killian, you don’t have to-”

“But I want to, Swan.” His tongue flicked against a small freckle dotting the inside of her thigh as he settled himself between her legs. “I’m not likely to last long once inside you, so I’d like for you to enjoy something of the experience.”

Her hand tightened against his scalp, prompting him to meet her gaze. “I already am.” While the truth of her words resonated around his heart, her body was still tense.

“I won’t if you don’t want me to, Swan,” he promised. “I’ll never do anything without your consent, you know that right?”

“I know,” she assured him. “It isn’t that.”

“Then what is it, love?”

Her eyes flicked to the side and she chewed her lip before sharing, “Graham never seemed to like doing… that, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something you don’t want to just to please me.”

A smile tugged at Killian’s lips and heart. “I told you, Swan,” he gripped her knee and gave it a gentle squeeze so she’d look back towards him. “I want to.”

His gaze bore into hers, hopefully imparting the honest desire he felt. He wanted to erase every memory he had of intimacies with _her_ and rewrite them with Emma. He wanted to taste her, to worship her like she’d just worshiped him until she came on his tongue and rode out the waves of that release with him then fully seated within her. A shudder rippled through her and he could smell the arousal pooling between her thighs, causing his eyes to flutter shut as he inhaled deeply against her mound.

Her thighs relaxed and opened wider in invitation, but Killian still flicked his gaze up to hers to ensure he had her full consent being diving into the delicacy before him. Her hips bucked from that first long drag he ran through her folds, and a series of moans seemed to resound down to her toes when his tongue began to flutter against her clit.

Killian simultaneously wanted to send her over the edge of the growing ecstasy he could feel coiling tighter within her, while also wishing to draw out his ministrations so he could luxuriate in her responses for longer. Before long though, her thighs began to quiver next to his head and her back arched off the bed just as a rush of splendor washed over his tongue, almost making him lose himself. With desperate urgency, Killian crawled his way up Emma’s body and began coating his length through her folds, drawing out her orgasm with fresh stutters on her breath.

“Tell me I can have you, Emma,” he pleaded, already lining himself up. “Please, love. I have to hear you say it.”

“Have me,” Emma moaned. “Please, Killian. I want you.”

He slid into her with one fluid motion, biting his lip to stay the pull he felt deep in his groin.

“Bloody hell,” he groaned once he was buried in her tight heat, his breaths coming in short pants that matched those puffing against his cheek from the woman beneath him.

He dragged his member back, almost pulling out, before inching back along her walls which clenched around him as he gained greater purchase within her. Each thrust produced another round of gasps, moans, and yeses from each of them as a mounting tension collected at the base of Killian’s spine and deep within his chest. As much as he’d hoped to provide his Swan with the necessary stamina to bring her to another orgasm, Killian knew he wouldn’t last much longer. The need for release grew with each snap of his hips.

“I’m sorry, love,” he lamented on a strained breath. “I can’t… I don’t think I can-”

“It’s okay,” Emma whispered, wrapping her legs around him and grabbing onto his backside. “You feel incredible.” Killian’s head dropped to her shoulder, her words and their adoring tone sending him over the edge as she encouraged, “Come for me, Killian. Come for me.”

Crying out her name, Killian emptied himself with an abandon he’d never felt before. A relief and release that exploded from a long forgotten recess of his being, leaving him shaken and trembling in Emma’s arms.

“Killian?” Emma’s concerned voice softly spoke. “Are you alright?”

It wasn’t until he felt her fingers wipe away the tears on his cheeks that he realized he’d begun to cry. Blinking away the moisture still pooled in his eyes he assured her, “Aye, love. I just…” his words caught in his throat, the declaration he so desperately wanted to express fighting to make its way to his tongue. “I never knew it could be like that.” He drew a ragged breath into his lungs then peered down into her eyes. “Never knew what a difference it would make.”

“What would make?”

He swallowed heavily and reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together by her head. “Love,” he declared reverently. “I love you, Emma Swan.”

A soft gasp escaped her lips before their corners pulled up into a warm smile. “I love you, Killian Jones.”

He could feel her smile widen under the press of his lips, an elated giggle rumbling through her chest as he peppered her face and neck with kisses. When he started to feel himself go soft and slip from her warmth he groaned and rolled himself off her, leaving the bed in search of a clean cloth.

“Here, love,” he offered, handing her a cloth before he set about to clean himself. He noted the bloom of a blush on her face when she handed it back to him, the evidence of their activities dampening it. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he mumbled, depositing their rags in the basket with the rest of the washing.

“Done what?” Emma inquired with a troubled wrinkle between her brow.

Killian climbed back into bed beside her and gathered her in his arms. “Finish inside you,” he stated, running a hand down her arm. “It was reckless. I wasn’t thinking. What if you become preg-”

Emma cut off his spiral of brooding with her lips, her hand splayed over his chest where her fingers began to toy with his chest hair. “For better or worse,” she murmured against his mouth, “we’re tied together in the eyes of God now.” She waggled her brows at him, eliciting a chuckle. Searching his gaze she asked, “Is that something you’d want someday? Another child?”

Killian considered the question while the image of a young boy with his hair and Emma’s eyes flashed in his mind then morphed into a new figure of another golden haired girl skipping and laughing in the wake of her big sister.

“Aye, love,” he exhaled. “I’d be honored to father a child with you… when you’re ready.”

“Well, assuming we dodge the bullet this time around, I think it’ll be awhile before I’m ready for that,” she informed him. “But… when I am ready. I want it to be with you.”

Killian kissed her again, his heart fuller than it had ever been, the hope of their future a palpable rhythm that beat alongside their hearts. They settled further down under the blanket. Killian readied himself for sleep to drag him under, but Emma’s thoughts began to echo loudly as they seemed to take a turn, disrupting the momentary peace they’d found.

“I can hear you thinking, love,” Killian murmured. “What’s on your mind?”

“Alice’s birthday is in four days.”

Killian’s gut tightened. “Aye.”

“Now that you’re back, Eloise can push for a vote.” She turned her body to look up at him and their eyes met even in the darkness of the dimly lit room. “I’ve been thinking that if there’s no other choice... If it’s the only way. I think I… I’d be able to withstand it. Her ultimatum.”

“But I’m not sure I can, Swan.” He reached out and brushed a section of her hair away from her face, his hand shaking slightly as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “Knowing you’re with that man, that you’re being violated night after night. I can’t abide that.”

“Better me than Alice,” she murmured softly.

Killian’s heart seized excruciatingly in his chest. The idea that either of the women he loved having to be subjected to what he’d had to endure turned his stomach and caused a flair of possessive protectiveness to ignite within him. He’d vowed to protect them both from the atrocities that existed just below the surface of their community, and he’d be damned if he broke his promise to either of them. Not when they were so close to being free of this place.

“Just consider it,” Emma urged quietly. “Only as a last resort. Only if we can’t get away before Alice’s birthday.”

Killian pulled her back into his side and placed a kiss atop her head. “As you wish,” he relented.

 _Over my dead body,_ he vowed.

~/~

The interior of the cabin glowed with the warm morning sun peeking in through the windows. A hand was lightly resting beneath Emma’s breast, its fingers tracing small patterns into her skin as lips caressed the side of her neck. Emma stretched and rolled, a contented hum vibrating up her throat as she faced a sleepy eyed Killian, his hair a chaotic mess of strands sticking out in all directions.

“Morning, love.” His voice was thick and husky, sending a thrill up her spine where his fingers were now skimming across her vertebrae.

“Morning.”

“Sleep well?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed in reply. “You? Why are up so early?”

“Someone was trying to push me off the bed,” he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled adoringly at her.

Emma lifted her head and took in their position on the bed. Sure enough, they were both squished together on his side with little more than inches keeping him from tumbling off.

“Sorry,” Emma said amusedly before attempting to roll back to her side.

Killian rolled with her, hovering over her when she came to rest on her back and caging her in with his hands braced at her sides. “Did I say I minded?” His voice dropped to that lower register that never failed to make her toes curl, and his eyes sparked with a flare of desire. “I’ll gladly surrender bed space if it means waking up to your soft, warm, _naked_ body plastered against me.”

He punctuated his words with a series of kisses down her neck and over her collarbone, pausing at her breasts as he finished talking where he then drove his point home by taking a nipple into his mouth. Emma moaned and arched up into him, her hands clawing at his back when he flicked the hardened bud with his tongue and nipped it gently with his teeth. When he switched to the neglected breast, Emma reached down and wrapped her hand around his rigid length. His satisfied groan reverberated against her sensitive skin, sending a ripple of anticipation over her flesh. His hips canted into her hand, encouraging the languid strokes she was applying to his hot, velvety member and hers bucked when she felt his fingers dip into her wet center.

Lost in the overwhelming sensations the man above her was eliciting from her body, it took her a minute to register his startled response to the cabin door swinging open.

“Brother Killian, I need you to-” Neal’s words cut of abruptly as Emma let out a small shriek of surprise and Killian rushed to cover her.

“Bloody hell, Neal!” Killian shouted, shielding Emma from the man’s intent gaze. “Has it never occurred to you to knock?”

Neal’s complexion turned an alarming shade of purple as he took in the scattered clothes that littered the floor, then flicked his eyes back towards the obviously nude couple. Killian raised his brows in expectation of a response while Emma ducked further beneath the blanket when Neal’s eyes hungrily trained onto her.

“Neal!” Killian barked, pulling the man’s attention off her. “What do you want?”

“Get dressed,” he said in a harsh tone. “I’ve called an emergency Elder’s meeting.” With one last leering look her way, he left the cabin without the courtesy of closing the door behind him.

Killian muttered something under his breath as he rose to go close the door. Sitting up, Emma wrapped the blanket tightly around her and grasped onto Killian’s hand when he came back to stand beside the bed.

“Do you think it’s the vote?” she asked with trepidation shaking her voice.

Killian ran a hand through his hair and down his face. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I meant what I said last night,” she reminded him, ignoring the expression settling on his features that told her he didn’t want to discuss it again. “We can’t let them do that to Alice and the other girls.”

“Aye, love. I know,” he lamented, sitting back down and gathering her in his arms. “Robin and I will do all we can to stall the vote,” he murmured into her hair. “While I’m gone, I need you to do something for me.”

Emma pulled back to look up at him. “What?”

“Start packing,” he said with vehemence, giving her one last kiss before standing and getting dressed.

After Killian left, Emma sorted through their things and began to discreetly set them aside. Books she wanted to take were moved to the end of one of the shelves so she could grab them quickly, clothes were folded and stacked at the bottom of the wardrobe next to their awaiting packs, and personal mementos and keepsakes were clustered together on one of the windowsills, ready to be swept into a bag at a moment’s notice. By mid-morning, when Killian had yet to return, Emma’s anxiety had reached new heights. Hoping to alleviate some of the worry churning in her gut, she set out for the forge. No sooner had she begun to light the coals when a bell rang out over the square.

Community members congregated to the area, all murmuring their confusion and speculation over the summons. Emma pushed her way towards the front of the crowd and spied Alice, Margot, and little Roland.

Waving her over enthusiastically, Alice whispered in a not so hushed voice when Emma came to stand beside her, “Miss Emma, what’s happening?”

“I don’t know, Alice.” She wrapped a comforting arm around the girl and informed her, “Your papa and the other Elders had an emergency meeting this morning. I think we’re about to hear what it was about.”

Emma eyed all her possible exits. If the worst was about to be announced, could she risk simply taking Alice’s hand and making a run for the main gate? She was about to inch them closer to the edge of the crowd when startled shouts and rumblings of many voices erupted from the mob. Emma blanched at the sight of a man being dragged forward by his tied wrists with a sackcloth over his head.

Young Nick led him to the post at the center of the square where he and Gideon began to secure him. The Elder’s flanked the man and Killian answered Emma’s questioning gaze with a quick shake of his head.

“This man,” Neal began, garnering the villagers attention, “is a Berserker!” Gasps sounded from the crowd, and Neal was quick to quiet them with a placating motion of his hands. “He was discovered last night, casing the walls of our village in an attempt to gain entry. The Elder’s and I met early this morning after he was captured and endeavored to question him, but he refuses to speak. We have no choice but to charge him as follows.” Neal began to pace along the front of the assembly with his hands secured behind his back in a posture of pious reflection.

“One. This man did willfully enter the land we have claimed as our own with the intent to steal from us.” More grumbles echoed through the crowd, and Neal seemed to revel in the response. “Two. His clan has engaged in raiding and murder against the good citizens of this village.” A cry of _murderer!_ sounded from the back of the group and Emma could feel the volatile shift in the usually tranquil community members. “Three, and most grievous. This man did willfully turn his back on God and embraced the pagan worship of the Pestilence!”

Stones and bits of food were cast from the mob and rained down on the man, who flinched when a few rocks met their mark. Killian stepped forward to quiet the crowd, the rifle he’d been given in order to keep guard over the man was slung in front of him at the ready. Once the villagers calmed down, he approached the man, giving Neal a hard look that Emma knew would be missed by most looking on.

“Do you have anything to say to these charges?” Killian asked before pulling the sack from the man’s head.

All the air left Emma’s lungs as she looked upon the man’s face. It was marred by scars left behind by burns, but his features were still the sharp, elongated ones that had plagued her nightmares for weeks.

He said nothing in reply to Killian’s query. Merely scanned the assembly before him as he pursed his lips together and blew out a shrill series of whistles. When his eyes met hers a sickening glint flashed in his eyes and the hint of a smile pulled at his lips.

“Judgement has been passed by the Elder’s,” Neal continued, “in accordance with the laws of this sanctuary. The penalty for these crimes is death.” He turned towards the man whose gaze flicked from her to settle on Neal with a bored expression. “The sentence is to be carried out in three days time, allowing you one last opportunity to renounce your sins and turn back to God and His mercy. If he does not,” Neal addressed the crowd once more, bowing his head and pressing his hands together in prayer. “May the fiery wrath of God cleanse this idolator from our midst. Amen.”

Murmurs of _Amen_ resounded through the square and the villagers began to disperse. Emma stood rooted next to Alice whom she was vaguely aware was trying to get her attention. Killian crossed from the man to her, a worried expression wrinkling up his forehead

“Emma, love. What is it? You’ve gone as white as a fresh sail.”

“I need to talk to you and Robin. Now.”

Without another word or backward glance, she rushed from the square towards their cabin. Gasping breaths assaulted her lungs and she flexed her hands repeatedly to try and expel the anxiety coursing through her. When Killian and Robin burst through the cabin door she immediately latched onto Killian’s shirt, balling the fabric in her hands as she stared up at him.

“Swan? What is going on?”

“That man,” she choked out. “That Berserker. I know him, and we are all in terrible danger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say THANK YOU for all the kudos and comments! I'm sorry I haven't been better about replying! It doesn't mean that each and every one of them aren't appreciated, though!!


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